A Series of Very Criminal Activities
by lunartick
Summary: Sequel to A Series of Politically Inappropriate Happenings. So, the Mafia is after the Genei Ryodan again. No big deal; it's not the first time, and they have honorary mafia Midoya June Kito on their side this time. Too bad Midoya seems to have an agenda of her own, one that may not take into account the safety of Kuroro or the Ryodan.
1. A Series of Very Criminal Activities

A/N: This is the sequel to A Series of Politically Inappropriate Happenings. This story will be a little different from the previous two (which were quite different from the first installment of The Series). It was inspired by two things: first, a desire to try a slightly different genre other than Humour (a more serious one, one might say) and second, the criticism that Kuroro's relationship with Midoya is a little too perfect. So, this story took a while to come out.

Truthfully, I considered not publishing it because the more serious genres of Angst/Tragedy etc are not quite familiar to me and I'm not sure how my dear readers will take to it. However, I decided to just go for it, and I hope I don't let you down.

Disclaimer:I do not own Hunter X Hunter and all the characters affiliated with the manga/anime. All OCs are mine and mine alone.

* * *

A Series of Very Criminal Activities

The room was large and furnished with heavy, cushioned sofa sets. Luxurious velvet drapes covered the walls and the massive windows that, when opened, gave the room a delightful airy feel. Expensive, well-known paintings were squeezed in between the drapes and the windows. Beautiful carvings and statues competed for space on the heavily carpeted floors. In the centre sat a large oak table with intricate carvings along the legs. Even a casual glance in the room would leave the impression of riches and luxuries beyond imagination.

To the mind of a creative and intelligent child, it was no more than a playground.

Drapes turned into hiding places. Sofas turned into forts. Statues and carvings formed mazes which had to be navigated with extreme care. Cushions were stepping stones that prevented hands and feet from touching the carpet, now pools of molten hot lava.

Giggling, the child crept behind the drapes and started to approach the oak table, where a tall man stood, oblivious back to her. In her mind, the attack pattern was clear. She would approach him from his blind spot, slowly on her hands and knees then before he knew what was happening, she would…

"Fuck!" the man shouted suddenly, interrupting the child's approach.

The child froze in place like a startled animal, becoming unnaturally still, nothing more than a pale shadow in the dark. That was not a good word. Father only used not-good words when he was angry. And when he was angry, he would not like to be pounced on. A tiny, pudgy hand clenched around the painful memory of the last time Father had been angry. It hadn't been very nice at all.

"Relax," a voice that was not Father's said coolly. "Getting angry wouldn't solve anything." The child blinked in surprise, the only movement she made. She hadn't realised there had been another person in the room and that was rare. So few things escaped the child's attention.

"That's easy for you to say," Father replied, still sounding angry. "What they took is of immeasurable importance to us!"

"I know that," the voice said with patience that sounded forced and strained. "I'm not saying we should let them run away with it; I'm just saying we should stay _calm_ while we find it. Geez, it's not that hard to understand, right?"

Father was silent, which was odd. Father was never silent when he was angry. He was always loud and… scary. "You do know this affects you more than it affects me?" he finally said spitefully. "You do know that without that stupid thing, there's no way the Council will allow me to change my will? That thing is more important to them than my intentions."

"I know that," the voice repeated, starting to sound angry. "We will find it once we find out who stole it. Relax, Uncle."

Uncle? The child bit her lips thoughtfully. That narrowed down the possible identity of the mysterious speaker, but not by much. She had so many relatives that she knew nothing about, and not all of them were Kitos either.

"Fine, but we have to find it soon," Father said finally, his voice taking a tinge of anxiety. "I don't want to have to deal with that… that _thing_ anymore."

"You mean, your daughter?"

"Don't call her that." Father's voice had grown quiet. That was worse. A screaming Father was always better than a quiet Father. "She's not my daughter, not anymore."

"You fear her that much, huh?" the voice asked, sounding amused. "That little pig-nosed brat?"

"It's easy for you to say," Father said, his voice still quiet. "You haven't seen the things she can do. She's a witch, a demon… a _monster_. If she finds out what I intend to do to her, I have no idea what she is capable of doing."

The child frowned. What did Father want to do to her? Send her for more tuition? Tuition was such a waste of time. There was nothing her tutors could tell her that she couldn't find in books. And books were always more interesting than her tutors, who made even the most exciting of stories boring. People are just so _boring_. Even this conversation was so boring. The child wished Father would stop talking to the weird stranger; she wanted him to read to her. Unlike Nanny and Mother, Father never bothered to censor the fun bits in _A Midsummer Night's Dream _for her. Bored and stiff from staying so still, the child yawned, stretching her legs and arms.

Abruptly, the drapes were whipped away and Father stood before her, dark eyes staring down at her in horror. "You heard!" he gasped. "Oh god, you heard!"

The child stared back at Father, shocked into silence. She had never seen Father look at her like this, full of anger, shock and… terror. "I didn't do anything wrong," she immediately protested, instinctively shrinking away. "I didn't do anything wrong!"

Father did not seem to hear her. Instead, he stumbled away from her, hands held up as if to fend off an attack. "You heard!" he repeated. "You heard!" Suddenly, Father scrambled for the table and pulled out something sharp and pointy that gleamed in the candle-light. Before the child could understand what was happening, Father lunged at her, jabbing the sharp thing into her arm.

"Owie!" the child cried out, starting to cry. "Owie! Owie! Owie!" Curling up, the child clutched her arm where a tiny pinprick of blood welled up onto pale, soft skin. "Owie," she repeated, this time more out of confusion than pain. "Owie. Owie," she continued to say as she slumped against the wall, suddenly feeling inexplicably sleepy. "Owie," she repeated once more before sliding to the floor.

As the darkness started to close in on her, the child was distantly aware of Mother bursting into the room screaming at Father. She tried to reach for Mother, but she couldn't move. She could only lay there as the light narrowed to a pinpoint and the words floated through her, empty of meaning, empty of everything but the shadows.

"_What did you do to her?"_

Owie.

"_What did you do to her?" _

Owie.

"_What did you to do my Midoya?" _

* * *

Dante's Inferno has long been adopted into most societies' image of how hell looks like. In those circles Dante described with loving detail, a slew of discomforts exist to torment the poor souls who had fallen to sin. Though the punishments within each hell varied, they all had similar themes: filth, gore, extreme temperatures, and an endless cycle of eating or being eaten.

Kuroro Lucifer smiled sardonically into the book in his hand. Lucky, lucky him; the place he called home had all the above and more.

Wind, hot, gritty and grimy, swept across the land, bringing with it the horrid odours of death and decay. The sun beat mercilessly onto those below, scorching the piles of metal junk lying about to unbearable temperatures. A careless bump against one of those pieces of metal would burn skin right off the flesh. Decay and decomposition, sped up by the sun, stunk up the air inside the tent that was at the moment the Ryodan's temporary home. Outside the tent, someone screamed, a shrill, terrified scream that was cut off violently.

Welcome to Meteor City; abandon all hope ye who enter.

"You're thinking dark thoughts again."

Kuroro glanced over at Franklin who was watching him quietly. "Am I now?" he questioned nonchalantly.

"You have that look on your face," Franklin rumbled, smiling slightly to show he wasn't being too serious. "Zenni for your thoughts, Dancho?"

"A zenni? My thoughts are worth so little." Kuroro smiled back at Franklin. "I was merely thinking that Meteor City is the city of contamination. Anything bright and cheerful entering this city would be automatically stained with filth. If you aren't careful, the city even creeps inside your head and turns it into a swirling pool of grime and blood." Kuroro smiled faintly. "That would be a rather succinct summary of my thoughts."

Franklin chuckled. "Dancho, I doubt there is anything in this city that could possibly make your mind even creepier than it already is."

"I agree," a soft, lilting voice said. "And I have met some creepy people in my time. Dancho, I believe you take the cake, as the saying goes."

"Why thank you." Kuroro regarded the pretty little boy in the red kimono, sitting primly in a corner of the tent. Over the course of the past three months, he had barely gotten a chance to get to know the newest member of the Ryodan. As far as he could, the little boy seemed perfectly capable and civil, but extremely distant from the rest. There was also something inexperienced in the way the newest member acted, but that was to be expected of someone that young. "How do you like Meteor City, Kalluto?"

Kalluto stared at him with large, too-intense, unblinking eyes. "It's cosy," he said, straight-faced and Kuroro smiled. With how overcrowded Meteor City was, living space was a matter of how many bodies could be squeezed into any available space. The tent they were currently in was barely big enough for four people of average size to sleep in, provided they didn't mind being pressed against each other the whole night. Given that the Ryodan were not the most physically intimate of people, they had decided to spread out over the city, taking whatever space was available, and only meeting in Kuroro's tent if he had instructions for them.

At the moment, he didn't. Normally, between missions, the Ryodan did not stay together. However, given that the chain-person, Kurapika, was still a threat, Kuroro had insisted that the Ryodan continue to stick together at least until that threat could be neutralized. Unfortunately, they were having difficulty actually finding the young man. Having sensed that Kuroro had broken his curse, he must have gone underground to wait for the opportunity to confront the Ryodan on his own terms. Well, Kuroro had confidence in his Ryodan. It might take a while, but they will find the boy and they will kill him.

In the meantime, Meteor City was as good a place to be in as any. At least Meteor City was _their _turf. It also had its own build in alarm system. Any outsiders entering would be noted immediately, and the word would spread like wildfire through the community. The residents of Meteor City might rape, rob and kill each other on a regular basis, but there was nothing that united them like _outsiders_. The whole world was the enemy and Meteor City was always at war with the enemy. What the residents did to each other were simple domestic disputes compared to what the outsiders could do to them.

As if on cue, the tent flaps parted and Shalnark came in. "Dancho," he greeted. "Hey Franklin and Kalluto."

Franklin raised a hand in greeting and Kalluto offered a curt nod.

"What news do you have?" Kuroro asked.

"Nothing on the chain-user," Shalnark admitted. "But I've been hearing interesting rumours all morning."

"Rumours? Pray tell."

"Apparently there's someone new in the city," Shalnark told Kuroro. "It's nothing new, I know. People are always drifting in and out of Meteor City. But it seems these newcomers set off alarms because they seemed to be from the mafia and seem to be looking for something."

"Is that so?" Kuroro cocked his head in thought. "Description?"

"Female and rich. Apparently she was accompanied by two men." Shalnark shrugged. "That's all I got."

"Interesting." Kuroro rubbed his chin as he thought some more. "Have you contacted the other Ryodan members?"

"Yeah. They're coming over as we speak."

"Good." Kuroro stood up. "Franklin, wait for them here, and tell them to stay here till I return. Shalnark, Kalluto, with me."

"Where are we going?" Kalluto asked, climbing to his feet.

Kuroro smiled. "Hunting."

-break-

Initially, Kuroro had thought that it would be extremely easy to locate the intruders. The residents of Meteor City did not like strangers coming in and snooping around. Given the reputation Kuroro and the Ryodan had, the residents were only too happy to help him so he could get rid of the threat. However, all the tips they received did not pay off. The strangers were obviously moving quickly through the City, refusing to stay in any one area for too long. That told Kuroro that the strangers were more dangerous than the average mafia thug. They moved like predators in another predator's territory.

"That's not good," Shalnark said when Kuroro shared his observation with him. "We get the occasional mafia thug trying to prove their worth, but those are often small fry with little knowledge of how scary Meteor City is. The dangerous ones _know_ about us and do not simply walk in here on a day trip. These outsiders are here for a reason."

"And we may not like their reason," Kuroro agreed. "I've never liked the mafia much."

"Except this Kito woman I keep hearing about," Kalluto commented from behind them, sounding mildly annoyed. "When do I actually get to meet her? I keep hearing stories about her, and I would like to prove for myself if she is really as powerful as Machi and Phinx claim she is."

"She's probably more powerful than rumour goes," Kuroro said wryly, "and she's technically, not mafia. Still, I would strongly recommend not antagonising her. Midoya can be quite… creative about her violence."

"Is it also true you are having sexual relations with her?" Kalluto asked bluntly. "Machi told me she walked in on you fucking her before."

Kuroro eyed Kalluto over the fur lining of his coat. "You are not old enough to talk about that," he said firmly, which was just hypocritical given where they were now. Children did not exist in Meteor City. Childhood was a luxury reserved for people living in the big cities with proper sanitation and ample food. In Meteor City, there were just people, some bigger and more developed than others, and some smaller and more vulnerable.

Kalluto fumed obviously at Kuroro's comment, but did not press the issue. The other Ryodan members must have warned him about challenging 'Dancho'. Kuroro wondered what rumours his Ryodan spread about him. He definitely had quite a reputation in this place.

"I can't help wondering what these outsiders want though," Shalnark said, interrupting Kuroro's daydreams. "I doubt they are launching an invasion of Meteor City with only three people, no matter how powerful they are. The way they are moving, trying to avoid detection like this, it seems to me that they are looking for someone or something."

"Interesting, isn't it?" Kuroro mused, having reached that conclusion earlier. "What could they possibly be looking for in Meteor City? We have nothing here but trash and people. Let us assume that they are looking for someone then, instead of a bag full of trash. Who could it be?"

The answer was rather glaringly obvious. The outside world knew little to nothing of Meteor City - save for the existence of the Ryodan. "Us?" Shalnark asked. "Why would anyone want to look for us?"

"Interesting question," Kuroro agreed, smiling faintly.

Shalnark gave him an aggrieved look. "I wish you would just tell me if you already know stuff so I don't keep repeating things that are already going through your head," he complained.

Kuroro forced himself to hide the smile that threatened to surface "I don't know the answer to that, Shalnark," he confessed. "There are multiple reasons why anyone would actively seek us out. Maybe they want to kill us, maybe they want to hire us (though we are not for hire, of course), or maybe they wish to join us. Those are the three greatest possibilities."

"True," Shalnark admitted. "But that simplifies things for us."

"If we just stay put, they will come to us, so we don't need to go wandering around looking for them," Kalluto concluded. He blinked in surprise when both older men turned to stare at him. "What?" he demanded irritably. "I have a perfectly functional brain too, you know?"

"Much to our delight," Kuroro said soothingly.

At that moment, something whizzed past him and lodged itself onto the ground next to his foot. Casually, all three Ryodan members glanced at the _kunai_ embedded on the ground then turned as one to look at the group of men in dark suits that had surrounded them.

"Genei Ryodan," one of the men said, his tone implying that might have been a statement or a question.

"Yes," Kuroro said calmly.

The man nodded and a series of guns were raised and pointed in their direction. "Come with us or die," he said coldly.

"Strange," Kalluto commented, "I see a lot more than three people here."

"Not the ones we are looking for then," Shalnark commented. "But still… filth."

Kuroro smiled faintly and allowed his Benz knife to appear in his hand. Next to him, he sensed his Ryodan members shifting into battle positions. Without appearing to move, Kuroro looked around idly. There were about thirty men surrounding them.

Too easy.

* * *

"You got attacked?" Phinx asked, forehead creasing in a confused frown. "The chain-user is coming after us, even if we're in Meteor City?"

"That is unlikely," Kuroro said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I doubt the chain-user has the power to send thirty mafia thugs after us. Besides, given that he is well aware of our strength, he would also know that sending thugs like this is a pointless move." Someone screamed in the background as Kuroro pondered over the question. "No," he finally said, "whoever sent these thugs after us is powerful and prominent in the mafia circles."

"Could it be a revenge thing for the mess we made of the auctions?" Shalnark asked, the escalating screams forcing him to raise his voice.

"What auctions?" Shizuku asked, looking confused and Franklin patted her head soothingly.

"Perhaps," Kuroro said in reply to Shalnark's comment, doubt tinging his voice, "but this does not feel personal. The thugs were trying to take us alive."

"Maybe they wanted to torture us?" Shalnark suggested, his voice getting louder as the screams got louder.

"Why would they want to torture us?" Shizuku demanded, looking more put out as Franklin continued to pat her head.

"Because they are shit-ass m…" Phinx started to say, but was interrupted by the sounds of footsteps pounding towards the tent.

Abruptly, the flaps to the tent they were sitting in flipped open and Feitan poked his head in, glaring at them. "Shut up with the speculating," he said irritably. "I'm working on getting concrete answers and all of you are distracting me from doing my job."

"Sorry," Nobunaga said, sounding extremely unapologetic, "but hey, you've been working on that thug for half an hour now and he hasn't said anything."

"Dancho brought back three other thugs," Feitan said coldly. "Eventually, one of them is going to talk."

Kuroro raised an eyebrow at that. After defeating the attackers, he had gotten Shalnark and Kalluto to bring back the five survivors of the attack to his tent for Feitan to question. So far, one of them was dead, one close to dying, and no one had said a word. He had never known anyone to hold out against Feitan like this. It had already been an hour, with all the Ryodan members except Feitan and Kalluto sitting in Kuroro's tent, waiting for results.

"Feitan," Kalluto's voice floated in from the flaps, "your prisoner looks like he's about to die and crows are starting to peck at him. You better come back here if you want any solid answers."

With another warning look at the rest, Feitan disappeared behind the flaps, muttering something about human beings being too fragile.

Nobunaga snorted derisively. "Didn't Kito teach Feitan something or other about interrogating subjects?" he asked. "I remember Feitan asking if he could learn from her."

"She tried," Machi said from the corner where she had been watching them silently. "Feitan didn't understand why he couldn't just use the pliers."

"Huh. Kind of wish Kito was here; she is bloody good at getting people to talk." The screaming had started again, but was much weaker than before. "And she runs little risk of her prisoner dying before she gets what she wants from him." Some of the Ryodan members who had never seen Midoya in action before started making questioning noises. Nobunaga simply shook his head in a way that implied to put Midoya's interrogation techniques into words would be to cheapen them.

"Actually, it might be a good idea to contact Kito after all," Shalnark said cautiously. "She runs in the mafia circles; she might have an idea of what is going on. Of course… I mean… if she knew what was going on, it's kind of weird she hadn't… ah… warned us… huh?"

Kuroro watched Shalnark avoid his stare and thought about it. The idea that Midoya might have known of an impending attack on the Ryodan and had not warned him didn't bother him as much as Shalnark might think. They didn't exactly look out for each other in that way; they trusted each other to be powerful enough to deal with their own problems on their own. Besides, he hadn't contacted Midoya in a while and he had never contacted her about work before. There was no point. She had already made it clear that she had no interest in joining the Ryodan, and Kuroro had no idea how she would react to him dragging her into Ryodan business. Either, she would generously consent to help him with little regard for payment or she would be very angry and demand kinky sex from him in return for a favour done. Truthfully, Kuroro could not see how things could go wrong, unless Midoya went angry the _wrong_ way in which case…

"Let us try to gather more information first before we contact Midoya," he finally said. "It'll be easier for her to help us if we could give her a better idea of what we want from her."

"Yeah, well…" Shalnark paused and cocked his head. "Did you hear that?"

Kuroro blinked and listened hard. Other than the usual sounds of life and death going on in Meteor City, there didn't seem to be… "I hear…" he paused. "Are those…?"

Again, the tent flaps were whipped aside and Feitan stuck his head in. "Franklin, you're needed," he said shortly.

"For what?" Franklin asked, already rising to his feet.

Feitan pointed towards the roof of the tent and said, "Helicopters."

Right in cue, a rain of bullets tore through the tent, ripping it to shreds.

Immediately, the Ryodan scattered. Without bothering to check the status of his team, Kuroro threw himself through the flimsy material of the tent, drawing his Nen around him to form thick armour. Heavy bullets thudded against the Nen, not penetrating his defences, but hitting it hard enough to leave large, circular bruises on his skin.

Bringing his arms up to shield his head, Kuroro rolled with the blows, barely resisting them as they flung him into another tent, where the occupants already lay in splatters of blood and flesh on the dirt. The force of the bullets flung him over the dead flesh, and he ended up being propelled out of the other side of the tent.

Just as suddenly as it came, the assault stopped. The sheer momentum caused by the attack flipped Kuroro over a few more times before he stopped, arms still curled protectively around his head. Cautiously, Kuroro peered out from between his arms, half-expecting the assault to start again. Since nothing happened, Kuroro uncurled his limbs and slowly climbed to his feet, eyes immediately searching out his team members. As far as he could tell, they were dirty and dusty, but mostly intact. The other residents living nearby weren't so lucky though; they were as dead as the prisoners they had taken earlier.

"You're bleeding," Machi said, coming up to him.

"No." Kuroro tried in vain to wipe the blood and brains off his coat. "It's not my blood." Almost as an afterthought, he scanned the skies, but the helicopters Feitan had mentioned were gone. Twin plumes of smoke in the distance suggested that Franklin had already taken care of them. "Well, well," he said wryly as the other Ryodan members started to gather around him. "That was quite an attack, I must say. It's the first time in years the mafia have so openly attacked Meteor City."

"Oh, they are screwed," Phinx said, grinning widely. "They just killed a whole bunch of us."

"Effectively declaring war on us," Kuroro agreed.

"Fuck yeah!" Nobunaga cheered. "Let's go kill them, Dancho!"

"To York Shin!" Phinx growled. "We're going to rip their heads off!"

The rest of the Ryodan erupted in cheers and Kuroro smiled at what he was about to do next. "Not yet," he said and his smile widened at the crestfallen looks on his comrades' faces.

"Why not?" Nobunaga whined.

"Because there is one loose end in Meteor City," Shalnark guessed, "the three people we first heard about."

"What three people?" Shizuku asked even though Franklin had already told her about it.

"The initial report was of three people, including one woman, entering Meteor City," Kuroro explained. "We still haven't found them yet. Before we leave Meteor City, we should hunt them down. Those three interest me. Are they part of the force that attacked us? If so, why didn't they join the attack? Were they simply a recon team? But that doesn't make sense. These three, especially the woman, were described as rich. They do not sound like normal mafia thugs to me. So who are they?" Kuroro rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he paused to let the Ryodan think about what he just said. "There are two possibilities," he said finally. "Either they have nothing to do with the thugs that attacked us, and were here by sheer coincidence, or they _are_ with the thugs that attacked us, but did not join the attack because that's not what they were here for."

Shalnark's eyes lit up. "You think the attack on us was a diversion so we wouldn't notice what these three intruders are really up to?" he asked.

"It is possible," Kuroro confirmed. "First thing's first, we find these intruders. Then we head for York Shin." He looked around the group staring at him. "Bonolenov, Kortopi, Franklin, head to Base 2 and secure it. Shalnark, Phinx, Feitan and Kalluto, go check out where the helicopters went down. If there are any survivors, bring them back here alive. Nobunaga, Machi and Shizuku are with me. We are going to hunt down the three strangers still loose in the city. When we're done, all of us will rendezvous at Base 2."

"And what do we do when we catch these three strangers?" Machi asked as the rest of the Ryodan dispersed.

"What are we going to do?" Kuroro looked around at the remains of his tent, the dead bodies scattering the ravaged ground, and smiled. "Make a guess. The first two don't count."

* * *

Given how the search for the mysterious trio had gone earlier that day, Kuroro had been expecting to have to search for days before he even caught a whiff of their activities. As it turned out, he didn't have to search for long.

Hardly two hours into the search, Kuroro obtained news that the newcomers were in District Four of the city. They were lucky, Kuroro mused. District Four was a relatively mild part of Meteor City, comprising mainly of petty criminals, thieves and others like that. If the outsiders had ended up in District Twenty-One, by the time Kuroro found them, they would be nothing more than a pile of bones, gnawed clean of any flesh.

Or maybe not. He wasn't sure who these people were, but they had been traversing Meteor City for a good number of hours by now. Either they were very lucky and had not run into any of the more dangerous residents of the city, or they were very, _very_ powerful. All things considered, Kuroro preferred to err on the side of caution and consider them extremely powerful fighters.

As they walked up the mud paths of District Four, a dirty, grimy hand waved at them. The squat boy with a horrible hunchback, owner of the hand, held a finger to his lips then pointed to a pile of rubbish a good storey high. "Behind there," he whispered with a lisp.

Kuroro nodded his thanks and headed for the mountain of rubbish. For a moment, he paused in consider the pile of junk before him carefully. The mountain of rubbish was unstable, but not impossible to climb. With a little care, they could scale it and get a good look at these strangers without alerting them. He indicated his plan with a gesture, and all four of them skipped up the rubbish pile agilely.

At the top, Kuroro stopped just before he reached the peak. Cautiously, he stuck his head over and looked down.

Just like the boy had told them, the three outsiders were there, obviously questioning a sullen and wary man. The two men looked almost identical, tall and well-built, both dressed in black suits. There was something about them that just screamed _mafia_. The obvious gun holsters there were wearing and the black suits were probably clues. That was surprising; the average mafia thug just wasn't tough enough to survive an hour in Meteor City. However, as far as he could tell, these men were obviously just… normal humans. Then it wasn't them that had deterred the residents of Meteor City. Kuroro dismissed them as unimportant and looked at the third person.

The third person, as the rumour had claimed, was a woman. Kuroro couldn't see her features properly as her back to him. From what he could see, she had straight black hair, pulled into a neat ponytail at the base of her neck. She wore a baby pink pantsuit that looked very out of place in the filth of Meteor City. Kuroro thought he caught a glimpse of pearls hanging around a pale neck. The immediate impression that sprang to mind was of a rich business-woman.

However, despite the appearance of a pampered, sheltered life, something about the woman before him set off the alarm bells in his head. There was just something about the way she stood, the way she moved, that conveyed… danger. Acting on a hunch, Kuroro initiated _Gyo_ and turned his gaze on the woman.

Oh. Wow.

Kuroro stared in amazement at the swirl of Nen surrounding the woman. It was shocking; not only was it dense and powerful, it was… beautiful, swirling and rushing about in astounding bursts of colour. It was like looking into the craziest kaleidoscope in the world, with the full awareness that all the pretty colours and shapes could turn around and rip you to pieces if they wanted to. It was awe-inspiring, seductive and… oddly familiar.

Abruptly, the woman's head snapped to meet his eyes and Kuroro heard Nobunaga gasp in surprise. Kuroro himself had frozen up in shock when he recognised her. How could he not? The woman was Midoya, Two Star Blacklist Hunter Midoya whom he hadn't seen in four months.

Then he saw the flawless skin, the subtle make-up, the colour of her pantsuit which Midoya (who normally favoured black clothing) never wore, and the hard, cruel expression on her face as she stared at him. No, Kuroro realised with a start, not his Midoya.

June Kito.

* * *

The two men, alerted by their mistress (for they were undoubtedly mafia thugs for hire), turned and stared up the pile of rubbish. Cover blown, Kuroro stood up as steadily as he could on the unstable surface. Immediately, the men stepped in front of their mistress and went for their guns, drawing them and pointing them at Kuroro.

Quick as a flash, Kuroro was at the bottom of the mountain of rubbish, ready to engage them, Machi, Nobunaga and Shizuku at his side.

"Stop where you are!" one of them shouted. "Hands where I can see them, buster!"

Since the dear man asked so politely, Kuroro deliberately stuck his hands in the pockets of his coat and stared past him insolently, fixing his eyes on Mi… June Kito. June Kito stared back at him with absolutely no recognition on her face. That would have been enough to put Kuroro on guard on most days, but there was more to it than that. Kuroro had _seen_ Midoya dressed as June Kito before, sure. He recognised the little touches she did to make herself into June Kito: the elegant, expensive suits, the pearl jewellery Midoya normally detested, the layers of foundation on her face that hid her acne, and the ridiculously straightened hair. But he had never _seen_ her pull on her June Kito persona before. It was startling different from the quirky, good-natured, somewhat absent-minded Midoya. June Kito's expression was cold, calculating and cruel; her back was straight and stiff; her every gesture spoke of her condescension and disgust of the rats surrounding her. The look in her eyes told Kuroro that he should feel complimented that she thought of him as a living organism at all.

In short, she was the perfect image of the evil capitalist.

"You're mafia," Kuroro said, speaking to the bodyguards instead of her as he was unwilling to make his stand against _her_ specifically until he understood what was going on. "We don't like the mafia here. Either you leave now or you die. Your choice."

"Wrong, buster," one of the men snarled. "We got business here and we'll leave once we're done with it. _You_ stay out of our way if you want to live."

Following June Kito's lead, Kuroro looked down his nose at the thug who had spoken and sneered openly. "You? Kill me? Don't make me laugh, thug. I know power when I see it, and you obviously have none. How often did you have to hide behind your mistress when the residents came out to seek you?"

The men bristled as one, and Kuroro knew he had struck a nerve. "Okay, that's it," one of the men growled. "You're going to die, fucker."

Kuroro smiled coldly at them and drew his Benz knife. The moment he did, June Kito's eyes narrowed at him from behind her bodyguards and she reached inside her blazer and pulled out a pretty little gun with a pearl handle that was almost more decorative piece than weapon. Beside him, Kuroro felt Nobunaga and Machi tense up immediately, aggression and uncertainty filtering through in their aura.

"Ma'am, stay back," one of the men said urgently.

"Of course," June Kito said in a cold, even voice. Then without even blinking, she raised her pretty little gun and coolly put a bullet into each of her bodyguard's heads.

From behind him, Shizuku made a surprised sound as June Kito disappeared from sight and reappeared in front of Kuroro. She reached for him, and for a moment Kuroro thought she was going to attack him. But her arms wrapped around him, and she pressed her body against his alluringly. "Kidnap me and ravish me," she moaned theatrically then kissed his lips hungrily.

Well, well, well. Kuroro barely had time to start kissing her back before her lips migrated from his lips to his neck, and she started nipping him, causing interesting little sensations to ripple down his spine to… other araes. It was tempting to let this go on, but Nobunaga was making strangled noises behind him and Shizuku was commenting on how Machi had showed her pictures like this before, so Kuroro gently pushed her away.

The hard, cruel expression he had seen on her face was gone. In its place was a familiar half-smile under eyes twinkling with amusement. "Midoya," he greeted, somewhat relieved that he didn't need to kill her. "What a pleasant surprise." Behind him, he heard Shizuku ask Machi quietly who Midoya was.

"Kuroro dear," Midoya replied affectionately. "It is a pleasure to see you again, though I must admit the surprise is all yours. I fully intended to seek you out in this lovely city you call home. Though I appreciate your love for your hometown, I do wish you lived in a place that actually has some form of reliable transport system and infrastructure. Where's a cab when you need one in this place?"

"So you were looking for me while we were looking for you," Kuroro concluded with amusement. He held her at arm's length and looked closely at her attire. The baby pink pantsuit she was wearing was obviously tailored and very expensive. Inside, she wore something white and lacy that managed to look both suggestive and professional at the same time. Even though she had been trekking through Meteor City for a while, her outfit had remained miraculously clean and wrinkle-free. She had also managed to retain possession of the string of pearls around her neck and the subtle pearl earrings on her ears. "June Kito?" he questioned. "Are you on the run from the mafia? It's not enough you had to enrage the Hunter Association, now you've managed to antagonize the mafia too? Do I want to know what you did?"

Midoya laughed. She had a very pleasant, elegant laugh. Combined with her attire and natural poise, she exuded so much class that she made the everyday filth in Meteor City look embarrassingly filthier than usual. "My dear, I have missed you," she said fondly. "Why haven't you visited? I can only assume you are terribly busy with some evil scheme. I hope it takes place somewhere in York Shin. I've been getting terribly bored lately." She smiled at him then added, "Hi Machi, Nobunaga and Ryodan member whose name I cannot remember," almost as an afterthought.

"I'm Shizuku," Shizuku told her, offering her hand in a formal handshake. "Pleased to meet you, Dancho's fuck buddy."

Nobunaga winced and Kuroro raised his eyebrow at a smirking Machi. Midoya simply laughed again. "Pleased to meet you too, Shizuku dear," she said, accepting the proffered hand. "Why, I believe we've met before. I distinctly remember fighting you in my mansion."

Shizuku stared. "You have?" she asked. "Why would I fight you? You're Dancho's fuck buddy."

"Well yes, but you didn't know it then."

"That's impossible," Shizuku said seriously. "Dancho told us years ago that you're his fuck buddy and we weren't to touch you."

Midoya blinked and stared at Shizuku hesitantly. "Now I'm confused myself," she complained. "Didn't I defeat you and dear Ubogin in my mansion when the both of you fought me?"

"No way!" Shizuku exclaimed, looking shocked. "Ubo and I never team up! It wouldn't work! He's punches usually end up blowing me away and I end up flying into a wall or something! Ubo only works with Nobu because the two of them are totally in love with each other."

"Shizuku! What the fuck?" Nobunaga roared, looking outraged and embarrassed at the same time.

"What? You always said the two of you are like brothers!" Shizuku protested. "So aren't you two totally in love with each other?"

"This is all very interesting," Midoya commented, even sounding like she meant it. "But Shizuku dear, about my mansion…"

"What mansion?"

"My mansion? The one where I fought you and Ubogin, and defeated you too."

"What? Why would I lose to you? Are you saying I'm a loser?"

"Forget it," Kuroro interrupted as Midoya's brow started to furrow into a puzzled frown. "Shizuku has… issues. Anyway, Midoya, why are you here?"

The look of confusion on Midoya's face faded and she smiled wickedly at him. "I've already told you," she replied mischievously.

Kuroro thought back on the conversation so far. "You've been kidnapped?" he asked hesitantly.

"Kidnapped and ravished," Midoya agreed.

"By who?" Kuroro asked, shocked despite himself that someone had _actually managed to kidnap and ravish Midoya_.

"By you, of course," Midoya replied and pressed her lips to his again.

* * *

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Do remember to leave a review if you have the time!

Trivia: The last time the mafia had launched a full-scale attack on Meteor City had been a couple of years before Kuroro first met Midoya. The Last War (also known colloquially as That Goddamned Fucking War), lasted two long, bloody months and resulted in the death of five thousand mafia thugs and over ten thousand Meteor City residents. Up till this date, veterans of that war, basically anyone old enough to hold a stick with a pointy object attached at the end, all agreed that it was the best fucking entertainment they have had in a while.

When Kuroro mentioned the Fucking War to Midoya, she had nodded and told him that she had almost taken part in that war, but hadn't because of Hunter business. Also, she had somehow misplaced the nuclear bomb she used to own, and was too lazy to repurchase one.

Though they didn't know it then, Kuroro mused upon hear that, that was probably the luckiest break Meteor City had caught during the entire War.


	2. Kidnapped and Ravished

A/N: This is the sequel to A Series of Politically Inappropriate Happenings. This story will be a little different from the previous two (which were quite different from the first installment of The Series). It was inspired by two things: first, a desire to try a slightly different genre other than Humour (a more serious one, one might say) and second, the criticism that Kuroro's relationship with Midoya is a little too perfect. So, this story took a while to come out.

Truthfully, I considered not publishing it because the more serious genres of Angst/Tragedy etc are not quite familiar to me and I'm not sure how my dear readers will take to it. However, I decided to just go for it, and I hope I don't let you down.

Disclaimer:I do not own Hunter X Hunter and all the characters affiliated with the manga/anime. All OCs are mine and mine alone.

* * *

Kidnapped and Ravished

"Dancho kidnapped and ravished you?" Nobunaga demanded. "Why did Dancho kidnap and ravish you?"

"In point of fact," Machi added, "how did Dancho kidnap and ravish you without any of us knowing? We've been hanging together for four months straight! I thought we would have seen it if Dancho decided to kidnap and ravish you."

"Unless Dancho did something sneaky again," Shizuku said brightly. "Maybe he turned the both of them invisible and did it right in front of us but we couldn't see it. Is that it?"

All eyes fixed on the pristine figure in white sitting on the floor. Midoya stared back with a thoughtful look on her face. "Well, technically, Kuroro _didn't_ kidnap and ravish me," she replied slowly. "Technically."

"I don't understand," Nobunaga growled impatiently. "Explain yourself."

Kuroro concurred with the sentiment. District Four hadn't been the best place to hold a conversation with someone who stood out as much as Midoya, so Kuroro had taken her back to his tent (his _other_ tent, the one that wasn't torn to pieces and splattered with dead bodies). The team that had went to investigate the helicopter crash had not returned yet, but there were still a large number of people squeezed into a very small space. It made for a warm, claustrophobic gathering, with everyone squeezed to within inches of each other, even with Shizuku and Kortopi perched on Franklin's lap. Still, everyone had made an effort to not stand too close to Midoya. Her pantsuit looked glaringly white in the dirty confines of the tent, and just about dared anyone to sully it. Kuroro normally cared little about his appearance when in Meteor City since the environment pretty much dirtied anything it came into contact with, but her suit had made it a point to highlight how dirty his boots had become and how there was a smudge of something brown on his face. All in all, it made him feel rather self-conscious about the fact that he hadn't bathed properly in a week.

"Well, I mean," Midoya was saying, seemingly oblivious to the effect she was having on everyone, "though Kuroro hadn't really kidnapped or ravished me recently, I have had experiences with him where I felt thoroughly ravished after. Speaking of being ravished, Kuroro dear, I must complain about you not having dropped by for sex in recent…"

"That's not what I meant!" Nobunaga shouted as Franklin's hands clapped urgently over Shizuku's ears. "I meant why did you say Dancho did… did all that when he didn't! Why are you here in the first place?"

The expression on Midoya's face brightened with understanding. "Oh, because I needed to disappear and Meteor City is a fantastic place to do just that," she said cheerfully, looking very relaxed sitting cross-legged on the cardboard pieces on the ground, even though she must be unused to the grime. "Also, I needed to talk to Kuroro and it didn't seem prudent to do so over the phone."

"Why on earth did you need to disappear?" Machi asked as Shizuku complained and pinched Franklin until he removed his hands from her ears. "Did you piss off the Hunter Association again?"

"Not at all, dear. I wish people would stop talking about that. It was so yesterday. And technically, I didn't _need_ to disappear," Midoya said with a huff that somehow seemed elegant coming from her. "I mean, it was just more convenient."

"Kito!" Machi growled and Nobunaga made an impatient sound that threatened violence if she didn't get to the point _now_.

Midoya laughed delightedly. In a sudden epiphany, Kuroro realised she was very pleased to be here and obviously having a lot of fun doing whatever it was that she was doing. "Everyone stop asking her questions. And Midoya, why don't you start from the beginning?" he suggested and she beamed at him.

"But of course." She refolded her legs under her, sitting primly and neatly despite the dilapidated, filthy environment around her. "I came to warn you and the Ryodan. There is someone out to kill you."

"We know that already." Kuroro told her about the mafia thugs and the illegally-armed helicopters. Midoya listened intently and nodded calmly when he was done.

"Yes, that would be the person out to get you," she said in reply to Kuroro's question. "His name is Armando Basilio, head of the very powerful and prominent mafia family, Basilio, in Agocchi."

Agocchi, according to Midoya, was pretty much the baby brother of York Shin. Like York Shin, Agocchi was mainly a sprawling metropolis filled with skyscrapers, clubs and theatres. Given how Agocchi's demography was more ethnically mixed than York Shin's, the city also hosted a wide variety of restaurants selling 'ethnic food'. Every weekend, there was some sort of parade celebrating some culture or political movement. The night life was supposedly the stuff of dreams. All in all, it seemed like a vibrant, lively city to live in.

That of course meant that the mafia would somehow find its way into the city, like ants infesting a pleasant family picnic.

"It's the drug trade and human trafficking," Midoya informed Kuroro with a hint of distaste in her voice. "York Shin City has too many powerful figures controlling the drug and human trade. Those who wished to start their own little monopoly were forced to go to Agocchi instead. The Basilio family was one of those. They came to Agocchi a hundred years ago and made an absolute killing of the business, quite literally in some cases. Frankly, they are quite comparable to some of the Mafioso in York Shin in terms of power, both political and economic. However, they are not powerful enough to take a piece of the York Shin market. The other Mafioso are too established."

"What does that have to do with us?" Franklin rumbled. "We've never ticked off anyone in Agocchi."

Midoya pursed her lips. "You must understand," she said slowly, "that the Mafia is… well, it's a business. Because it is a business, it comes with all the rational, ruthless practicality of capitalism. However, it is also… a very complicated network of blood ties and honour bonds which… are based largely on rituals and pacts made hundreds of years back. There are a million and one traditions which hold a great deal of power even in modern, industrialised York Shin." She shifted, and to Kuroro's surprise, looked slightly uncomfortable.

"To paraphrase Franklin," Machi said, oblivious to Midoya's discomfort, "what the fuck does that have to do with us?"

Holding up a finger to indicate the need for patience, Midoya went on with her story. "One of these ah… rituals and pacts involve the inheritance of power and estates in the mafia," she said, seeming to regain her usual calmness. "Normally, each family will have some kind of heirloom or token that the heir to these families inherit. Gaining possession of the heirloom literally gives one the right to claim an entire family estate."

"Uh huh, and?" Nobunaga demanded impatiently.

"And Armando Basilio is searching for one of these heirlooms."

"AND?" Nobunaga's voice rose with impatience.

"And the Ryodan just happened to have stolen one of them."

A silence fell over the group as they gaped at Midoya openly. She beamed back at them like a magician who had just successfully astounded an audience. "You mean to say," Nobunaga asked disbelievingly, "that we stole an item of fucking absolute power and we _didn't realise it_?"

Midoya burst out into laughter, ignoring the exasperated glares directed at her. "Yes," she said finally, "yes, that is the case." The glares got more intense and she started to giggle girlishly. "Oh, you guys are too cute."

"What on earth did we steal?" Kuroro asked, giving the Ryodan his 'Dancho' look thus effectively stopping Nobunaga's attack on Midoya before it even began. "And when did we steal it?"

"You stole a gem," Midoya said, "and you stole it roughly seventeen years ago."

Now even Kuroro was staring at her in shock. "Seventeen years ago? That's impossible!" Machi blurted. "The Ryodan wasn't formed seventeen years ago."

"No," Franklin said quietly. "It wasn't. But we were already stealing, weren't we? We were just street rats trying to make a living in a screwed up world."

"Yes," Midoya confirmed. "This heirloom was stolen by the Ryodan before it became the Ryodan. That's why it took so long for Basilio to figure out who had taken it. It's probably also why none of you realised what you had stolen; you were all too young to realise what you had done."

"Midoya." Midoya met Kuroro's eyes. "Exactly what did we steal?"

From within her pocket, Midoya retrieved an aged photograph, starting to turn yellow around the edges. Silently, she handed it to Kuroro who took it and studied it. "It's called the Infinity Gem," she told him.

Kuroro stared at the photograph and suddenly… he remembered.

_Bright sun blazing down on them. The stink of decay and rot in the air. Men, tall and heavily armed, running after them. Legs pounding the ground, chest tight with panic, lungs drawing in frantic gulps of air. In his hands, the tiny case the men were protecting… _

"I was only nine," Kuroro murmured and felt the attention of the other Ryodan members focus on him in surprise. "It wasn't the Ryodan; I stole it. Ubo, Paku and Feitan knew; they were with me. It was… we saw the car, and it was obviously new. We thought we could get some food from the car. We were starving. So we stole what we thought was a box of food. The men were protecting it so desperately, and at that time, it never occurred to us that there would be anything worth protecting more than food."

"What? Why didn't I know?" Machi demanded, looking enraged and a little hurt.

"You were in the hideout with Nobu." Kuroro shook his head. "It was a crime of opportunity. And we never really thought much about it afterwards, especially after we opened the box and there was just that gem instead. To us then, it was just a… stone. It was pretty yes, but not edible, so it hardly mattered to us, not when we were starving to death."

"What did you do with it?" Midoya asked idly and Kuroro stared at her. She hadn't sounded… off, but there was something about the way she asked that question which tweaked his antenna. He looked at her curiously, but, she only looked back at him with a questioning look on her face.

"Kuroro?" she asked, still looking at him with that inquisitive look on her face.

"We sold it," Kuroro replied with a wry smile, "for the grand price of two zenni so we could buy a loaf of bread."

Midoya's lips parted slightly in a rather comic expression of shock. "Two zenni?" she asked disbelievingly. "You sold a priceless gem, a symbol of infinite power and the heirloom of a powerful Mafia family for _two zenni_?"

Kuroro quirked an eyebrow at her, knowing the effect this was having on her and taking great joy in the look of horror on her face. "I was _nine_," he said pointedly, hiding his smile. In return, Midoya gave him a look that told him she knew he was making fun of her.

"When I was nine, I was doing quantum physics and psychoanalysis, and I definitely knew what a colour-change sapphire is," Midoya grumbled back.

"Is that what this gem is? A colour-change sapphire? What does that mean?" Shizuku asked, peering over a laughing Kuroro's shoulder at the picture in his hand.

"It means that in different light, the sapphire would appear to be of a different colour," Kuroro told her. "See here?" He held the photograph out so the rest could see the oval gem cut into an elaborate necklace that was in it. "Half of the gem appears to be blue, but the other half appears more reddish. That's due to the way the light hits it from different angles."

"Ooh." Shizuku's eyes widened. "It's pretty."

"Yes, it is. It's the only natural colour-change sapphire in the world that changes to three colours. Also, it's more than pretty," Midoya said solemnly, pointedly ignoring Kuroro, who was still obviously amused with her reaction. "It's a symbol of power with the York Shin mafia. Basilio has been trying for years to enter the York Shin mafia circles, and if he gets his hands on it, he can have access to a great deal of wealth and status in York Shin."

"Ah, that explains what he is doing here looking for us," Kuroro said, deciding to sober up so they could focus on business. "But that does not explain what you are doing here, Midoya."

Midoya beamed at him. "Why, Kuroro darling, you will be pleased to know that I am currently faking my own abduction so I can assist you. Pretending to be kidnapped releases me from a lot of obligations and gives me the freedom to help you as much as I can."

"And why would you do that?" Kuroro asked curiously.

"Well, for one thing, I am very grateful to the Ryodan for the help given the last time I was almost killed by the Hunter Association," Midoya said warmly. "I don't believe I have ever thanked any of you properly for that time. So, thank you." Machi blinked in surprise and shifted uncomfortably. Nobunaga flushed an unhealthy red and coughed awkwardly. Kuroro smiled at their reactions, knowing that neither of them knew how to respond to Midoya's straightforward expression of positive feelings for them. Emotionally healthy his Ryodan was not.

"For another?" Kuroro asked, acknowledging Midoya's gratitude with a nod.

"For another," Midoya said mischievously, "I like working with you. It comes with a lot of benefits, including your brilliant, devious brain and your substantial skill in bed. I'm sure the feeling is mutual, especially since we haven't seen each other in four months."

"Indeed, I do like working with you," Kuroro agreed, smiling faintly. He looked around the Ryodan and noted little resistance to his agreement to work with Midoya. "Okay, since that is settled…" He looked at Midoya inquisitively, "What do you have in mind?"

"You're letting me decide? Really?"

"Of course. You aren't part of the Ryodan, so I can hardly hope to order you about now, can I? I am most open to hearing your opinions," Kuroro told her, ignoring the complains of biasness from Machi and Nobunaga.

Midoya's face brightened immediately and it occurred to Kuroro that she had come expecting to be treated like a Ryodan member. For someone who had insisted time and time again that she would not be part of the Ryodan, Kuroro couldn't help wondering why she was willing to put up with them.

"There are two parts to this plan," Midoya was saying, "we have to find the Infinity Gem and we have to kill Basilio."

"Why?" Shizuku asked. "I mean, I get why we're killing Basilio, but why find the Infinity Gem? Why not just kill Basilio?"

"Because Basilio has already leaked out that he knows the Ryodan has the Gem and is coming after the whole lot of you," Midoya said patiently. "He is priming the mafia for his rise. So, even if you kill him, others will come, seeking the Infinity Gem. If you have it with you, you can at least negotiate with it, or pass it to someone you trust."

"True," Kuroro agreed. "So what do you suggest?"

"The second part is easy; I know where Basilio is at the moment. The first part is the difficult part. I suggest that…"

"Well then, that's simple," Kuroro said, cheerfully interrupting her. "Midoya, you and I will head to Agocchi to kill Basilio. The rest of the Ryodan will search for the Infinity Gem."

Midoya's eyes met his, and there was something unreadable in her eyes. It wasn't anger, though it seemed like it, nor was it irritation, though it might have been close. He couldn't pinpoint it, but he definitely knew he had put her off by his suggestion. "Only the two of us in Agocchi?" she asked, though he knew that wasn't what she really wanted to say.

"It is sufficient," Kuroro said dismissively. "I do not need the entire Ryodan there just to take out a mafia thug. Searching for the Gem however, is an immensely huge task, which we can complete faster if all the Ryodan members take part in it. Once we are done killing Basilio, and I assume it wouldn't be that difficult, we can assist the other members in locating the Gem." He saw her lips part slightly as if to protest, and saw when she paused to think about what he had just said.

"Actually, that's not a bad idea," Midoya mused thoughtfully. "It will definitely be more difficult searching for the Gem than killing Basilio, especially if the Gem is still lost somewhere in Meteor City. More labour directed to searching for the Gem is, in actual fact, a rather good division of labour. That was an excellent thought, Kuroro."

"Why thank you. Coming from a master schemer, that is quite the compliment."

"And knowing you," Midoya added wryly, "that's the extent of your contribution to our plans."

The Ryodan members started agreeing with Midoya immediately and Kuroro smiled. "I like it when people improvise," he replied with a shrug.

"Or you're just too lazy to plan out the details so you leave them to Shalnark," Machi said pointedly and Kuroro's smile widened.

"Alright then." Midoya climbed to her feet and stretched. The other Ryodan members instinctively shied away from her. "I'm off."

"Off?" Kuroro climbed to his feet as well. "Why and where to?"

"Here is me improvising," Midoya said, giving his cheek a mischievous tap. "We need to go to Agocchi, no? Gosh, I wonder how we're going to do that since we are like here and Agocchi is like _there_. Fortunately, I am a master schemer as you said, and in my most devious, scheming way, I have decided that the first step to getting to Agocchi is going to get my car, which I left in the only open space I could find about half an hour away from here."

"A brilliant scheme," Kuroro told her with great amusement and she laughed.

"Do you need my help?" Nobunaga asked then flushed when everyone else looked at him with varying degrees of surprise and disbelief.

"Why would I need your help?" Midoya asked, looking bemused.

"It's a dangerous walk," Nobunaga mumbled, looking embarrassed.

"And I am a dangerous person. Fear not, I am perfectly capable of getting my own car," Midoya said, smiling slightly. "I do appreciate the effort, but you don't have to be a gentleman to me. As I understand the workings of Meteor City's social system, none of you are even obligated to help me in the first place."

Nobunaga blinked in surprise. "Why not?" he asked.

"Why… not?" Midoya stared at them. "Because… I am not one of you? Kuroro has explained the Us and Them system to me before, and I am… Them, right?"

"You're Them?" Shizuku demanded, looking surprised. "That can't be true; you're Ryodan!"

"I am?" Midoya asked, startled.

"No, you're not," Franklin assured her.

"She's _not_?"

"Am I or am I not?" Midoya asked warily.

"You're not," Franklin said firmly. "Relax."

"But you're Dancho's girlfriend," Koltopi interrupted ("She's not my _girlfriend_. We are _partners_," Kuroro protested, and Franklin gave him a sympathetic look.). "You're fucking him. If you're fucking him, you're him."

"Excuse me?"

"Sex is the union of the flesh, no?" Shizuku pointed out in a reasonable tone of voice. "If sex is the union of the flesh then your flesh has united with Dancho's flesh. That makes you Dancho. That means you're Ryodan and that means you are Kuroro Lucifer. Why would the Ryodan not help our Dancho when he needs it?"

"What?" Midoya asked, looking exactly like the quintessential deer caught in the headlines of an incoming car. "I'm Dancho? Kuroro, is this how you decide who takes over as Dancho in your absence? Have I taken over the Ryodan simply by having _sex_ with you?"

Kuroro, who had been hiding his amusement at how bewildered the Ryodan's unique brand of logic had made the normally poised, rational Midoya, decided to save her from her misery. "No, Midoya, you're not Dancho, you're not Ryodan and you're certainly not me," he chuckled. "What the Ryodan means to say is that they like and admire you a lot, and would like to help you in anyway possible because they feel you are more than a mere acquaintance to them." Franklin coughed awkwardly, Machi fidgeted and made a show of looking out of the tent, and Nobunaga flushed even redder with embarrassment.

"Ah," Midoya said slowly, still looking uncertain. "Well, regardless, I do not need assistance reaching my car. I greatly appreciate the sentiment though. I'll be back soon to pick Kuroro up. Till then." The uncertainty vanished off her face, and with a brilliant smile, she turned and strode out of the tent.

The tent gave a collective exhalation of relief. "Damn, that is one hell of a woman," Nobunaga commented ruefully. "Has more class than Meteor City can handle. If she stayed here any longer, paved roads and proper sanitation will start appearing miraculously, which would just be damn disturbing because I'm fucking traditional about Meteor City's culture. How did you _get_ a woman like that, Dancho?"

Kuroro smiled proudly. "The Ryodan way," he said, "by breaking into her house."

* * *

It was a true pity that Midoya couldn't have stuck around in Meteor City any longer than she had. Meteor City, the legendary city of criminals, radiation and other weird things, was spoken of only in the quietest whispers in the mafia circles. She would have liked to stay and explore the city some more. Undoubtedly, dear Kuroro whom she hadn't met in months would have given her a lovely tour of the place too. It would be a wonderful adventure too. She might even get to try those radioactive mushrooms he keeps talking about. Instead, here she was, going to retrieve her car while he stayed back to give his gang some last minute instructions. Pity, pity, pity.

Speaking of Kuroro, what a pity it was that she didn't get the chance to jump him. He looked absolutely delectable, even if he was slightly grimy from the living conditions here. But then, that man would look absolutely jumpable dressed in a college mascot costume. Still, there were other chances to jump his bones; resolving the current… issue was more important.

Midoya paused in her steps and brushed hair out of her eyes as she looked around. She had been walking for a good half hour or so now, and she should be near the area where she had left her car. But, the car was nowhere in sight. Cautiously, she looked around. Yes, she was definitely at the exact spot where she had left her car. The wind had done a fairly good job of erasing the tracks, but she could still see the faint tyre marks of her car.

Someone sniggered.

Casually, making sure to take her time, Midoya looked around. There was actually a crowd watching her from a safe distant, hard-eyed, ill-used people staring at her over nearly identical smirks. Well, well, well. Still adopting an air of nonchalance, Midoya scanned her surroundings. Certain items started to jump out at her from the massive piles of rubbish lying about. A black car door, too shiny to have been in the sun for long; a tyre; a car hood with the BMW symbol on it. Ah. So, that's what Nobunaga meant when he offered to walk her to her car. What a sweetie he was. One would not have expected it from a man who dressed like that.

The crowd noticed that she had noticed the remains of her car, and the sounds of mocking laughter got louder. Someone said loudly, "It's ours now."

A smile spread over Midoya's face, as friendly and as warm as sunshine. Gracefully, she glided over to the car hood and dragged it back to where she had been standing previously. Holding it casually, she straightened up and regarded the crowd that was watching her curiously. The smile on her face widened. "I'm Kuroro Lucifer's lover," she announced calmly. Then with barely any effort, she lifted the car hood between her hands and crushed it. With great meticulousness, she bent and squeezed the piece of metal until it was nothing more than a small ball of metal in her hands, barely the size of a baseball.

The crowd had gone silent as they watched her with the kind of quiet terror an antelope watches a lion from a distance. Midoya examined her work critically then deliberately met their wary stares with a smile. "I hear Kuroro cares a lot about Meteor City," she told them nonchalantly. "I can see why. This is a very beautiful city. Such interesting architecture, such exotic sights to see; one could spend a good month here, just taking in the sights and sounds."

The crowd fidgeted as one organism, but no one said anything.

"I've heard the cuisine here is quite exquisite too, though radioactive mushrooms do sound quite deadly to me. I suppose that's the thrill of eating them," Midoya beamed. "I've barely been here for half a day and I already like this place. The people are so friendly and polite and helpful."

"Th… thanks?" some brave soul said hesitantly, and murmurs of agreement joined his quickly.

"Indeed, I am _very_ grateful that the people here have taken the initiative to trash and recycle the car that I had wanted to dispose of," she went on, bouncing the ball of metal in her hand casually. "It saved me the trouble of getting someone to actually tow it away for me. I am very grateful indeed, as I should be, wouldn't you say?"

The crowd had fallen silent again, and the tension in the air was almost palpable.

"Unfortunately, in my haste to get rid of my car, I have forgotten to acquire an alternate form of transport." Midoya gave a self-deprecating laugh. "How silly of me, don't you think?"

Some in the crowd nodded immediately. Others shook their heads. Those who weren't sure whether they were supposed to disagree or agree with her just shrugged as ambivalently as they could.

"I don't suppose…" Midoya tapped the side of her face thoughtfully, "I don't suppose I could further impose on the outstanding residents of Meteor City… by asking if there is any other form of transportation out of here…" She smiled widely at them. "Could I?"

* * *

The car was of a brand and make that had been out of production some twenty years ago, not old enough to be vintage but definitely old enough to be obsolete. It was impossible to tell what colour it had originally been. Over the years, parts of the car had been replaced with parts that were of a different colour. The result was a kaleidoscope of a car, complete with a yellow hood, a blue door, a red door, a green top and a broken windscreen. There was no rear mirror, seat belt or seats. The interior had been replaced with a series of wood planks that, presumably served the same purposes as seats. The steering wheel had been modified from a ring of metal that looked like it might have been part of some machinery once, probably one that dated from the start of the Industrial Revolution. A nod to safety was present in the form of a piece of rope that tied the driver to the wooden planks, presumably so the driver could burn together with the car when it eventually caught fire.

Well, Midoya thought to herself as she surveyed the car, at least it actually worked.

"What a lovely car," she told the owner. "I like what you've done with the back window. The cracks give it a very post-modern flair. That is very much to my taste; I have always had a great fondess for the postmodern movement."

The owner, a young man with shifty eyes laughed uncertainly, as if he wasn't sure if she had made a joke or not. "That's uh… thanks," he mumbled.

"So, how much should I pay you for it?" Midoya asked, reaching for her purse.

The man looked terrified. "It's okay," he said quickly. "No pay."

"Are you sure?" Midoya asked gently. "I have money."

"No pay," the man repeated, waving his hands desperately as if he could make her leave by doing that. "No pay."

Perhaps throwing Kuroro's name around like that had been a little too much. "If you are sure," Midoya said dubiously.

Carefully, she slid into the car, getting splinters in her suit and her fingers as she did. She gripped the steering wheel, which had already become uncomfortably hot in the Meteor City sun. It took a few tries, but finally the car roared to live. With many creaks and groans, Midoya reversed until she was finally facing the direction she was going in. "Many thanks for the car," she told the young man watching her. "_Au revoir_."

The young man blinked. "Up yours too…?" he replied in an uncertain tone, as if he couldn't decide if he was supposed to be insulted or terrified.

Rather than try to figure out what social taboo she had just broke, Midoya stomped down on the accelerator and the car leapt forward, racing down the road that led back to the Ryodan base. Unfortunately, the road was bumpy and there were many obstacles in the way. With the great _élan_ of someone very hard to kill, Midoya pressed even harder on the accelerator. The car sped up even more, vibrating in a very worrying way. Humming cheerfully to herself, Midoya swerved right and left violently to avoid the random people and piles of rubbish on the road, managing to avoid killing anybody by the nearest margin. Suddenly, a huge mountain of rubbish appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the road.

"Who wants to live forever?" Midoya sang happily as she drove the car up the mountain and down the other side, causing it to collapse in a giant tsunami of trash and body parts. As the car came back to earth with a jarring crash, Midoya stomped even harder on the accelerator and sped out of the boundaries of Meteor City. "Forever is our today," she sang as what remained of the windscreen shattered.

Within ten minutes, she was almost at the Ryodan base. Given how close the tents were to each other, it would have been incredibly dangerous speeding towards the tent even at the fastest speed this car could muster (which was not very fast). So Midoya did precisely that. What was life but a risky game after all? She was pretty certain someone smart had said that – and probably died shortly after.

Driving up to the cluster of tents, Midoya would have been hard-pressed to tell which one was the Ryodan base if Kuroro hadn't been standing outside the tent, a dark, menacing figure in his large fur coat and dark jeans. He looked like Death personified and materialised, come down to Earth to claim the souls of the fallen. He looked as cold as ice and as dangerous as an avalanche. He looked like he could rip your spine from your body with a single thrust of his fist, and that he would do so without even blinking. Midoya smiled. Damn he was _hot_.

He raised his eyebrow at her as she grounded to a stop in front of him. "You have taken a step down in life, I see," he commented wryly, leaning against the window frame so he could speak to her.

"Some residents took my BMW by mistake," Midoya informed him cheerfully. "As an apology, they offered me this wonderful vintage for free."

Kuroro's other eyebrow joined its brother. "How many are dead?" he asked, his voice as calm and as cool as if he were asking about the weather. Some people found Kuroro's natural lack of display of emotion disconcerting. Midoya personally liked that it took so much to get Kuroro mad. She did like pushing boundaries _hard_.

"Oh you have such poor faith in me," Midoya replied cheerfully. "I assure you that the only thing that died was my poor BMW."

"So you didn't kill anyone to obtain this… vehicle?"

Midoya laughed. "Does this vehicle look worth killing for?"

"This is Meteor City and this is potentially the only functional vehicle in the entire country. I've seen people kill for much less," Kuroro pointed out. He cocked his head and peered at her with a disarming smile that turned his face from scary and dark to cute and boyish. "Will you let me drive?"

Ah. If there was one thing Kuroro knew, it was how to turn on the charm. Midoya sighed. She wished she wasn't that immune to charm. It might be nice to be charmed once in a while. At least she would know what the fuss is all about. "Alright," she conceded, knowing how stubborn and aggravating he could get if she refused. "One day, I _will_ take you on a drive and we will survive it, and you will admit I am not a bad driver at all."

"That's quite alright, Midoya. I am sure you are a great driver," Kuroro said as he slid into the driver's seat, his lips turned up at the corner. "As long as you are driving on a wide, open plain with no traffic laws, nothing to run over and nothing to run into."

"Oh be quiet, you. Traffic laws, like all laws, are such flexible concepts after all."

They fell silent as they drove away from the Ryodan base, each wrapped in their own thoughts. As they started to leave Meteor City behind, Kuroro, in a very casual voice that Midoya knew was mostly an act, asked "Midoya, what is in this for you?"

Oh. She had been hoping he didn't notice. Normally she had such a good poker face, but Kuroro knew her a little too well for her to be comfortable with. Well, if there was no way she could successfully get away with lying to him, she would just have to do the opposite. "What's in this for me?" she asked, pulling on her widest smile. "What do you think, dear Kuroro?"

Kuroro gave her a look, that intelligent, scrutinising look that told her he was putting that brilliant mind of his to good use. "Mafia business, of course," he said wryly. "I can hardly guess at the details, but I suspect it wouldn't do your business too bad if Basilio suddenly drops dead from a stupendously convenient cardiac arrest."

Wow. He _was_ smart. His answer was absolutely accurate even if it wasn't the whole truth. "Mafia business? I have no idea what you are mean. I'm just a small town girl, living in a small town world, making my living killing criminals," she said with a cheeky wink. "Anymore guesses?"

He smiled back easily, his body language relaxed as he confidently manoeuvred the broken piece of junk they were sitting in over the sandy desert surrounding Meteor City. "You are a woman of many mysteries, Midoya," he said with a careless shrug. "It would take a greater mind than mind to guess at any one of them."

Midoya laughed and allowed a natural silence to fall between them. He wasn't pushing the issue because he trusted her, she knew. He didn't believe whatever secret she had would hurt him or his Ryodan, and he believed that she would do her very best to protect his Ryodan as he had protected her when she was being chased by the Hunter Association.

She could only hope that would turn out to be the case.

* * *

It was a good seven hour drive to the nearest airport, but once they got there, it was easy to find a flight to Agocchi. Within the hour they were on a plane to Agocchi. Given Midoya's new status as 'kidnapped and ravished', they had taken the Economy class, ending up getting squashed between a frazzled young woman holding a screaming toddler and a fat, old man snoring loudly in his sleep. It was only then that Midoya informed Kuroro that Armando Basilio was not only the head of the Basilio estate, but a One Star Hunter in his own right with an army of One Star Hunters on his pay roll.

"What?" Kuroro demanded then lowered his voice when Midoya made shushing motions with her hands. "Why did you not mention this earlier?" he asked in a quieter voice. "If I had known Basilio was that well prepared and powerful, I would have gotten more of the Ryodan to come along with us."

"Because I decided it is not necessary," Midoya replied, smiling wryly. "Dear Kuroro, as you so aptly pointed out, you will need most of the Ryodan to find the Infinity Gem. Being aware of that, I have decided that we don't need their help killing Basilio. I am perfectly capable of finding my own help."

Kuroro frowned. He wanted to protest bringing an outsider into Ryodan business, but that point was moot by now with Midoya's participation in this mission. Besides, he has outsourced for help in the past, so it wasn't exactly beyond reason to bring someone else into the assassination of Basilio. "Who are you thinking of?" he asked instead. "Pepeka?"

To his surprise, Midoya shook her head. "Pepeka isn't a good choice," she said. "Firstly, after the attack on the Fort, Pepeka has been under constant supervision by the Hunter Association, as I have been. Unlike me, Pepeka has a bright future as a Hunter, and I would like to keep it as that. Secondly, we _are_ going to murder someone, and murder just isn't Pepeka's thing, as you might have noticed. He's still trying to regain the innocence he lost when he thought I was dead, that poor dear."

"Pity. I hate to admit it, but Pepeka is a rather useful ally to have. I've heard from Phinx and Nobu that a Pepeka without morals is quite a fearsome fighter." Kuroro put more thought into the friends of Midoya he had met to date. "Moonshine?"

"Ah, dear Uncle Moonie. He is currently redeeming himself in the eyes of the Association by helping them with the rebuilding of the New Fort. If you ask me, I think there's a little something-something going on between him and Cheadle-san too. So, though murder is quite his thing, I'm afraid he wouldn't be available to assist us."

Kuroro gave her an exasperated look. "Then who?" he asked. "Are you going to keep me in the dark forever? Do I need to torture the details out of you?"

Midoya grinned widely in a fashion that caused the screaming kid next to her to fall silent and gape openly at her. "If you like Pepeka, you'll like her," she said gleefully.

Kuroro frowned and replied, "I never said I like Pepeka." He eyed her suspiciously. "Midoya, who are we meeting?"

Impossibly, Midoya's grin widened and the kid's eyes widened along with it. "Pepeka's sister," she said, "Kikita Timbal."

* * *

A/N: Whoo! I managed to get a new chapter out in record time! (Pats myself on the shoulder). As usual, hope you guys enjoyed the story!

Trivial: Even though the owner of the car Midoya acquired had refused any form of payment, Midoya had felt bad taking away his car, especially since he had obviously spent a lot of time on it. In an effort to repay his great kindness, she had, with equal kindness, sent a brand new car to him.

The moment the car arrived at his place, the young man had gasped a gasp of horror at the sight of the beautiful, gleaming, _expensive_ car. All around him, his neighbours uttered scandalised whispers at the sight of a _new_ car, one that was _given to him_, and not something he had _salvaged and made himself_. "Oh, now he's a snob," they jeered. "Getting _new_ things instead of salvaging the trash like the rest of _us_." The young man had protested miserably that he hadn't asked for it, but no one believed him.

At first, in an attempt to make the car usable (since it was already here), he had tried rubbing some dirt on it to make it look a little more broken in. However, the sneers and whispers had continued. "You think you can fool us by rubbing dirt on it?" his neighbours shouted. "We're not that fucking superficial, you _capitalist_! It's what's inside that counts!" To the young man's dismay, it was true. Upon opening the car up, he discovered it not only had a perfectly functional, well-maintained engine with a horsepower of three hundred ("It's so powerful and accelerates so beautifully!" his wife had cried. "It's worse than I thought!"), it also had a _new_ battery, _unleaded_ fuel, a wonderful suspension, leather seats and _proper seatbelts_ ("You are no son of mine!" his father had howled).

Eventually, unable to take the glares and in an attempt to get his wife to move back with him, one night, the young man took out his tool box and went to work on the car.

The next morning, the neighbours woke up to the sight of a, for lack of a better word, _dismembered_ car. The shiny new doors had been knocked out, the leather seats had been torn out, and the engine lay in pieces on the ground. As they watched, the young man carefully and lovingly hammered in wooden planks where the seats had been, taped down plastic sheets to replace the doors and put in an old, rusty engine he had found in the trash. Then, as a finishing touch, he took the radio apart and remade it into a creaky music box before presenting it to his tearful wife.

That night, his wife moved back in, his father clapped him on the back and told him how proud he was of him, and the neighbours brought dinner over (it was Rat Roasted Over an Open Fire; his favourite). Decades from then, the young man would still be remembered in Meteor City folklore as the Young Fucker Who Got a New Car But Traded It For a Salvaged One Which Makes Him a Good Fucker Not a Bad One.


	3. Welcome to Normalcy

A/N: This is the sequel to A Series of Politically Inappropriate Happenings. This story will be a little different from the previous two (which were quite different from the first installment of The Series). It was inspired by two things: first, a desire to try a slightly different genre other than Humour (a more serious one, one might say) and second, the criticism that Kuroro's relationship with Midoya is a little too perfect. So, this story took a while to come out.

Truthfully, I considered not publishing it because the more serious genres of Angst/Tragedy etc are not quite familiar to me and I'm not sure how my dear readers will take to it. However, I decided to just go for it, and I hope I don't let you down.

Disclaimer:I do not own Hunter X Hunter and all the characters affiliated with the manga/anime. All OCs are mine and mine alone. The views stated by the characters do not always reflect the views of the author either.

* * *

Welcome to Normalcy

Though Kuroro had known Pepeka and Midoya for some years now, this was the first time he had ever heard that Pepeka had a sister. In fact, it had never occurred to him that Pepeka might actually have family. In hindsight, that was a silly thought of course; presumably Pepeka came from _somewhere_, as disturbing as that image was. So, in an attempt to find out where this somewhere was, as they collected their luggage at the Agocchi International Airport, he asked Midoya for some background on Kikita Timbal.

As it turned out and to his never-ending surprise, Midoya had known Kikita years before she knew Pepeka. "She was helping some evil people rob a protected historical site while I was protecting the historical site," Midoya told him. "Since we were on opposite sides, we ended up fighting each other. It made for quite a spectacular battle."

"Who won?" Kuroro asked curiously. He didn't know many people who can take Midoya in a head-on fight. He knew even less people who can take Midoya in a one-on-one and survive.

"You know, surprisingly we haven't reached a decision yet." Midoya pursed her lips. "The site was robbed clean and the evil people were dead, so it should be a draw… I guess? Oh, I still have some of the relics in one of my storage facilities because I couldn't figure out how to get rid of them. You can take a look someday if you like. There aren't many books, but there are some quite expensive statues from the site I was protecting." She paused. "I did mention that I robbed the site I was supposed to protect…?"

"Thank you for the offer," Kuroro said, wondering how _that_ had happened. "So how did you end up as allies?"

As it turned out, despite their rocky beginnings, the two of them had kept in contact. "Because I'm useful to her and she's useful to me," Midoya said. Another thoughtful pause later, she added, almost sheepishly, "I know where the good food in York Shin is and she knows the best bars in Agocchi. We both like fireworks and killing stuff. She's good with hair stuff too, though I'm better with makeup. We did manicures together once and ruined it right after by getting into a fight, so we pretty much decided manicures are wasted on us and got drunk instead." A pause. "When I say we got into a fight, I mean we ended up wrestling a bear. Not that we killed it, because Kikita loves bears, but it was a great fight nonetheless. The bear kept trying to bite off my head; it's quite a sweetie, that dear. Oh, and Kikita's really good at making Pepeka turn red."

Kuroro wasn't sure why that would be considered a unique and irreplaceable skill, but he let it slide and nodded at Midoya to continue. "So why is she helping us?" he asked.

"For the bears, of course," Midoya replied wryly. "And lions and tigers, and all the other endangered creatures of this world." It seemed that at the moment, Kikita Timbal was a Poacher Hunter, a hunter who dedicated herself to protecting endangered species, hunting down poachers and putting an end to the organisations behind poaching. Normally based in the Kyne Islands, she had moved to Agocchi to take down the rich people behind the poaching trade in the Kyne Islands. "The Mafia, of course," Midoya, stating the obvious, said. "No one else in the entire world wears as much leather and fur as the Mafia."

"Of course," Kuroro agreed.

And, given that Kikita Timbal had a major bone to pick with the Mafia, she had expressed few qualms about the murder of Armando Basilio. "She has met the man," Midoya told him with an ironic little smile on her lips, "He did not make a very good impression on her." At Kuroro's inquisitive look, she added, "He turned up for a meeting about the conservation of endangered animals wearing the skinned fur of a _Leo Magicae_ _Parva_ over his shoulders. It was the last of its kind and he had skinned it just so he could make a point."

"Charming."

"Most certainly. At any rate, you see now why Kikita is very motivated to help us."

"Indeed I do," Kuroro agreed, watching her watch out for her luggage, his own black duffel bag already resting at his feet, "but the question remains: is she competent enough to help us? Given that this is Pepeka's sister we're talking about, you will understand if I have my doubts."

"Oh, you'll see," Midoya said with a wicked little smile playing around her lips as she dragged her luggage, a blue duffel bag with camel trimmings, off the conveyor belt.

"I look forward to it," Kuroro told her sincerely as they made their way out of the arrival hall.

The moment they exited the glass doors, Kuroro found himself greeted by a large, colourful, weaved sign that declared he was very welcome in the great city of Aggochi. Raising his eyebrow at the colourful sign, Kuroro looked around the crowd, noticing immediately the presence of large numbers of people wearing ethnic tribal outfits.

"The people here are very proud of their heritage," Midoya told him, looking around idly. "You'll see a lot more of this in the architecture and restaurants. It makes for quite an interesting visit, if you are into examining tribal Diasporas in the urban centres."

"Ah, one day then," Kuroro said, taking in the sounds of some kind of tribal music with plenty of drums and bone chimes. "Bonolenov would like this place," he mused. "I do believe he misses his tribe sometimes. Not everyone in the Ryodan is into dancing and music like he is."

"Who is that?" Midoya asked, still looking around.

"A Ryodan mem…"

Whatever Kuroro was about to say was lost when a loud, powerful, distinctly feminine voice boomed, "OH MY GOD, YOU FUCKING BITCH!"

All traffic in the arrival hall froze as the powerful voice thundered through the air. With the reflexes of a very fast person, Kuroro dropped his duffel bag and reached for his Nen, preparing himself for an attack by an army of One Star Hunters.

"Oof!" Someone to his right declared and Kuroro turned to look.

"Hey! Watch it!" someone else shouted.

Kuroro narrowed his eyes, trying to peer through the crowd. Eventually, his eyes picked up a figure pushing through the crowd towards them, causing bystanders to protest and cry out. But no one stepped forward to stop the figure.

"BITCH! WHERE ARE YOU?"the figure thundered again and Kuroro raised his eyebrow. This was not quite how he expected a One Star Hunter to launch an attack…

Abruptly, the figure burst to the crowd and Kuroro's eyebrow went up even further. Before him stood a gorgeous Amazonian of a woman, tall, tanned, blonde and built like an Olympic athlete. Kuroro stood a little below six feet and this woman was even taller than him. Her shoulders were broader too and she had a lot more muscle than he did. Her hair was short, cropped but obviously well-cared for. Her body, obviously honed for physical work, was dressed in a bright pink sports bra and neon green shorts. She would have been considered masculine if not for a gorgeous, strikingly handsome face, with high cheekbones, full lips and blazing blue eyes framed by thick, golden lashes.

Her Nen was also blazing, but Kuroro wasn't too concerned about that since there was no aggression in her Nen. She didn't seem to be attacking them though the fearsome way she glared past him at Midoya had him reconsidering that assumption.

"Bitch!" the woman repeated in a much softer voice as she came up closer, though her eyes still blazed with rage. "You stupid, useless whore!"

"Oh shut up," Midoya replied with cold anger in her voice. "You're being too noisy, you crass, brutish, ignorant berk."

"Don't get me started on this!" the woman growled, one hand reaching out to grip the front of Midoya's blouse. "I can't believe what I heard! You're dating the Dancho of the Genei Ryodan? And you attacked the Fort! Without me! And you're screwing the infamous Kuroro Lucifer without me! What the fuck? I thought you loved me!"

Kuroro's eyebrows disappeared into his white bandana.

"Oh, get over yourself. You know I don't do threesomes well, being a somewhat selfish and possessive person when in bed." Midoya crossed her arms and somehow glared down her nose at the much taller woman. "Now, let go of me before I disarm you – literally."

The woman sneered. "I would like to see you try, you inbred fuck up."

Midoya's eyes narrowed and her hand clamped around the woman's wrist. From experience, Kuroro knew that Midoya had very, _very_ strong hands, but the woman didn't even flinch when Midoya squeezed _hard_. "Let go."

"Not till you apologise for fucking Kuroro Lucifer without me."

An odd look crossed Midoya's face and her voice changed, gaining an edge of amusement. "Aren't you married, vowed to boring monogamy with one man for the rest of your miserable life?" she asked, and there was a slight tremor of laughter in her voice.

"Oh fuck!" the woman exclaimed, her lips twitching up at the sides and her eyes widening with mock surprise. "I can't believe I forgot!"

"Your memory is notoriously bad, Kikita, but I refuse to believe you forgot you have a husband." A smile was creeping around Midoya's lips, her anger fading too quickly to have been genuine.

"Oh fuck you," the woman said and abruptly broke into a familiar brilliant smile Kuroro had seen on another foul-mouth Hunter before. "I missed you, you fucking ass-wipe."

"And I missed you too, you obnoxious dozy," Midoya replied, smiling just as widely.

Then to Kuroro's amazement, they clutched each other's hands and _giggled_. "What's going on?" he asked cautiously, and was stumped when Midoya ignored him and continued whispering something to the woman that had them giggling again. "Midoya?" he repeated in a louder voice, wondering what this woman had done to hypnotise Midoya and whether he had to slap Midoya back to full consciousness or risk her attacking him in a fit of insanity.

To his relief, Midoya looked at him and seemed to register his presence. "Oh dear, my manners," she said, looking slightly embarrassed. "Kikita, this is Kuroro, said Dancho of the Genei Ryodan and my current lover. Kuroro, Kikita, Poacher Hunter and Pepeka's sister."

The woman, that he had already known was Kikita Timbal from her startling resemblance to her younger brother, turned sharp blues eyes on him and her full, pink lips parted in surprise. "Oh fuck! He's _hot_! He's beyond hot! He's way hotter than rumour said! He's a fucking gorgeous, sexy piece of man-flesh!" she cried. "Why did I get married before you found this piece of ass? Why?"

"Pleased to meet you too," Kuroro replied drolly.

Midoya laughed. "Don't mind her," she told Kuroro with a smile. "Everyone knows monogamy is bad for the soul, and after three months of blissful matrimony, her soul is obviously in many, pathetic, sex-starved pieces."

"I wish you wouldn't say that in front of me," a soft male voice said with gentle amusement. "It makes me sound like a manky little muppet is what it does."

Even after hearing the voice, it took a while for Kuroro to realise that there was another man standing next to him, apologetically shooing curious bystanders away. Now that Kuroro saw him though, he had to wonder how he had missed him in the first place. He was as tall as the woman he had come with after all, though that was where the similarities ended. While Kikita looked to be in her early thirties, this man looked at least a decade older, with soft, brown hair dusted with grey at the temples. His face was plain but kind, filled with smile lines and wrinkles. His eyes were small, brown and covered with horn-rimmed glasses. His limbs were pale and slender, but soft, and he had a bit of a tummy. If he had walked into Meteor City, he would have been conned, robbed and murdered within seconds. He just had 'victim' written all over him.

While Kuroro was busy convincing the street rat in him to not murder the stranger, Midoya reached out and grasped the man's hand in a gentle handshake. "John, dear. How are you?" she said fondly. "You must forgive my manners. I sometimes forget that some people do revel in matrimony. Kuroro darling, this is John Smith, John, this is Kuroro Lu… ah, my fiancé. John is Kikita's husband."

"Good morrow, good sir!" the man said cheerily, offering his hand. "It's a right pleasure meeting you."

"Pleasure's all mine," Kuroro lied easily, shaking a soft hand. The moment he touched the man's skin, he frowned in confusion. There was something… wrong with this man. He couldn't quite place a finger on it, but there was something about this man that made him feel different from Midoya or anyone else Kuroro knew. "Are you a Hunter?" he asked curiously.

The man's brown eyes widened in surprise. "Hunter?" he exclaimed. "Me? Goodness, no! Not at all. That's a right joke there! Me, a Hunter? Nah, I'm no good at things like that."

"Then what are you?" Kuroro asked suspiciously, still trying to figure out what felt wrong about this man.

"I'm an accountant," the man said, laughing. "I work in an office. Just a plain ol' boring nine-to-five job with the Ministry of Finance."

For a moment, the words did not register properly in Kuroro's mind. He knew he was hearing what he was hearing, but wasn't sure he was really hearing what he was hearing "An _office_ worker?" he asked cautiously. "You mean you work in an… office? At a desk? With a…" The memories of movies watched with Midoya were dragged to the surface, "computer? And hot coffee? And people walking around with tensed expressions on their faces talking about graphs and things like that?"

John Smith blinked. "Why yes, that's what I said," he said confusedly. "Was I stammering?"

Ignoring the question, Kuroro tilted his head and regarded the man with wide-eyed fascination. "You mean accountants weren't invented by television? People actually _work_ in offices?"

John Smith blinked some more. "I must have been stammering like a wazzack if you didn't get what I say," he laughed awkwardly. "Of course people work in offices. I mean… is it that rare?""

"I have never met someone who works in an office before," Kuroro told him, amazement colouring his voice. "How bizarre is this. What is it like?"

"Well…" the man looked flustered. "I go to work at nine and I leave work at five. That's about it. Now, don't you go misunderstanding me here, it's a jolly good job that pays for the house but…"

"You _leave_ work? How is that possible?" Kuroro pressed the tips of his fingers to his chin in astonishment. "You mean… you _don't_ work after five?"

"Y… yes?"

"But what if something comes up?"

"Why, I deal with it tomorrow."

"But what if it's urgent?"

"Urgent? Usually it can wait a few hours. I mean… I'm an _accountant_."

"But what if you need to steal a diamond by a certain time? Or what if someone needs to be dead before you can do a certain job?"

"That never… never happens in my line of work, Kuroro. Does that happen in anyone's line of work? I mean… Are you quite alright? You look quite pale. Your blood sugar must be low is what I think it is. Do you need some coffee?"

"My goodness," Kuroro said, hand still on his chin as he stared at the man. "How incredible is this, a job where you can actually… put things aside for another day. How strange and bizarre! Midoya dear, why have you never told me about this odd job, this… _accountant_ job, before?"

"Why Kuroro, I am as amazed as you," Midoya replied, and Kuroro could hear her trying not to laugh.

Suddenly, he understood what was wrong with the man. "You don't know Nen," Kuroro said in bewilderment, gripping the man's hand again so he could verify his hypothesis. That was what he was feeling; Nen that was _untrained_, Nen that was allowed to flow freely and messily because it had never been refined before. It was… incredible, it was so hard to believe. How could anyone survive in this world without Nen? What if he got attacked by a magical beast or a mafia thug in a helicopter? If Midoya hadn't been with him when his Nen had been sealed, he would have been dead by now.

A nervous finger pushed the glasses up. "What… what is Nen?" John asked hesitantly.

"_What is Nen_?" Kuroro cried in dismay.

"No, he doesn't," Kikita Timbal said loudly, looking just as amused as Midoya. "My John is just an accountant." To Midoya, she added, "Your Kuroro is such an amazing joker. Look at all the funny jokes he is making. This is going to be such a fun vacation for you."

"But of course, Kikita, I am only so glad you are willing to host us while my dear fiancé and I tour Agocchi," Midoya said firmly, taking Kuroro's hand and leading him away from a confusedly smiling John. Once they were out of earshot, she whispered, "Dear, John's understanding of Kikita's job is limited to what it is 'called'. He believes that being a Poacher Hunter means she spends her time nursing abused animals in nature reserves instead of fighting desperate men with Nen-powered carbines. That is how many Hunters like the public to see them, as non-threatening, law-abiding, peaceful citizens, and Kikita is still trying to figure out how to break the news to her gentle, timid, accountant John that she is perfectly capable of shooting a man's eye out from three hundred feet away with a Nen-reinforced pebble."

"Oh," Kuroro said, though he didn't quite understand. Abruptly, another thought hit him and he whispered, "Goodness… Midoya. I think I understand this now. She's your _friend_. No, not just any friend; she's a real friend to you. Someone you actually trust and someone you would help… without _asking for anything in return_."

Midoya blinked up at him. "Why yes," she said awkwardly. "That is true. I mean… we do go shopping together and stuff. And I like her hair. She has very nice hair. I wouldn't look good with cropped hair, as useful as it is."

"I didn't know you were capable of having friends like normal people," Kuroro mumbled. "I never even thought it was possible for you to be friends _with_ normal people." At that, Midoya laughed.

"Yes dear, welcome to my sordid other-life," Midoya quipped, taking his hand and leading the still-shocked Kuroro out of the airport. "We've got places to go and things to do, so let's head out now."

* * *

It turned out that where they were heading was the house Kikita and her husband shared in the nice, pleasant part of town where people lived in homely houses with nicely-tended gardens, and where the crime rate was as low as the racial diversity in the area. Just by being there, Kuroro was certain Midoya and him had doubled the crime rate, quadrupled the racial diversity, and lowered the minimum age by forty years.

After a short drive during which Kikita and Midoya sat in the back seat, alternately giggling like little girls and insulting each other caustically, while Kuroro sat in the front and relentlessly questioned an increasingly flustered John about the intricacies of his peculiar lifestyle, the car turned into a driveway framed by various types of pretty, colourful flowers. The house, a two-storey bungalow (plus attic), was strikingly similar to Pepeka's apartment. The walls were clean of any form of graffiti and painted a beautiful cream-colour. The roof appeared to be clear of any kind of rubbish and was an unassuming brown. The windows were framed by plain yellow curtains. Even from the driveway, Kuroro caught the delicious scent of spices and meat.

"This is not the place I envisioned we would be staying in while we plot the murder of a mafia boss," Kuroro whispered to Midoya as they climbed out of the car.

"Welcome to normalcy," Midoya murmured as she walked past him.

"It… will take some getting used to," Kuroro told her hesitantly.

"Don't worry," Midoya laughed, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze, "we're only dropping by here before we go to a hotel. It's for John's benefit; we are supposed to be on vacation, visiting Kikita and all that kind of stuff."

"Oh good, because the windows disturb me. How can anyone live in a place with windows like that? There no shutters or bars on the windows. Furthermore, I can see right in from here, and if I can see inside from here, a sniper from the house across the road can too. It's horribly dangerous."

"Yes dear, I'll let Kikita know," Midoya said patiently.

"An excellent idea," Kuroro agreed and followed her into the house.

Immediately, the resemblance to Pepeka's residence came to a shocking, perfumed end. As homely and as cosy as Pepeka's house was, it was still ultimately a bachelor's pad, and it showed in the clean, plain furniture and minimal decoration. This house however, was obviously designed to be a family house, and that showed in the wedding pictures lining the flowery wallpaper, the vases of roses and violets on counters, the smell of powdery air freshener in the air, and the pictures of people resembling John Smith on the wall.

Interestingly, other than two pictures of an awkwardly smiling Pepeka, one where he was holding his Hunter's license (obviously newly acquired) and a more recent one where he was wearing an ill-fitting suit and standing next to a beaming John Smith in a tuxedo, there were no other pictures of people resembling the Timbal siblings in the house.

"Are Pepeka and Kikita orphans?" Kuroro asked Midoya as he studied a picture of five adults resembling John Smith crooning over a tiny creature that might have been a squashed monkey or a human baby.

"Nope!" Kikita said from behind him. "Our parents are still alive the last I checked."

Kuroro smiled charmingly. "I did not mean to pry," he said smoothly. "I was merely curious why there are no mementos of them."

"No worries. I don't keep pictures of them around because they are total douchebags who pretty much disowned us after I ran away from an arranged marriage and Pepeka got fucked up the ass by another pair of douchebags," Kikita said brightly. "Coffee anyone?"

Well. That was news. "Black," he told her, glancing at Midoya for answers, a look she promptly ignored.

"I want sugar in mine. And Kikita, Pepeka will be angry you told Kuroro that. He hates to look bad in front of Kuroro," Midoya said mildly. "He has a crush on me and thus quite understandably detests Kuroro since we're doing each other."

"He'll get over it!" Kikita shouted from the kitchen.

Kuroro fixed an astonished stare on Midoya. "I didn't know you realised Pepeka has a crush on you," he told her. "I thought you were utterly oblivious to the fact that he stares at you as if you were a goddess descended upon the earth, which is frankly quite ridiculous, because no self-respecting goddess would listen to the kind of music you listen to."

In reply, Midoya gave him a mildly exasperated look. "Do I look like an idiot to you?" she scolded. "Of course I know Pepeka has a crush on me. He wears his feelings on his face all the time." She shrugged. "It's just easier to pretend I don't know. It saves me from having to actually _talk_ about it." She shuddered in horror in a way she wouldn't have when faced with a flesh-eating _Juwasi_. "I can't even begin to imagine that conversation."

"Oh, you shouldn't say that, lassie," John said from behind them. "I personally think it would be better to end his hopes so he can search for another woman." He smiled kindly at Kuroro and Midoya, evidently having gotten over Kuroro's interrogation of him. Apparently accountants are quite resilient people; Kuroro had seen hardened criminals crack under less. "Take a seat, make yourself comfortable. It's a right fine day to sit around and have some coffee," he said benignly, gesturing to a soft, pink couch.

"Thank you," Kuroro said, lowering himself onto the couch. Then remembering that he was playing a tourist visiting friends in an interesting, touristy city, he added, "Your house is very lovely."

"Isn't it?" John beamed proudly. "I designed and chose everything. Kikita is just useless when it comes to indoor decorations. I let her deal with the security system though. I thought she would know more about that than I would. And I was right. That woman has a right mind for that kind of thing. Me, give me some wallpaper, some catalogues and some flowers, and I'm a happy man, is what I am."

"Wonderful," Kuroro murmured, pulling a cushion with a cross-stich of a baby on it from behind him so he could lean back. He settled it on his lap, the baby's face down, because he couldn't stand staring at its face. Why was it smiling? Wasn't it aware that infants, more so than anyone else in the world, were most vulnerable to predators, whether human, bestial or microbial? Why should it be happy with being that young and vulnerable? Was it plotting something of an evil and nefarious nature? Kuroro never trusted anyone who looked that happy all the time. He wondered what it said about John Smith that he liked things like this, but he didn't wonder much. Far be it for him to judge a man for liking flowers and suspiciously-happy babies.

"So," John said, dropping down on the matching loveseat. "When is the wedding?"

Kuroro stared blankly. Having just found out barely an hour ago that he was apparently engaged to Midoya meant he had no idea what the back story was. He wasn't even sure what a reasonable time period would be for a wedding. Did they take as long as funerals? Was it possible to hold a wedding for a fortnight? Do people burn their enemies alive during weddings as they did during funerals? Fortunately, Midoya, obviously recognising his confusion, said smoothly, "We haven't quite decided yet. We're taking our time, searching for the _perfect_ house and all that." Ah, so people look for perfect houses when they get married. Good to know, though he had to wonder how anyone ever got married in that case. Kuroro had never seen a perfect house in his entire life.

"Oh, that's a fine thing to hear," John said, sounding genuinely cheerful. "I heard the two of you live in York Shin now?"

"Yes," Midoya said and Kuroro just kept the polite smile on his face, because he wasn't sure if that was supposed to be the case. "But York Shin is so… uh… crowded, you know? Not good for uh… uh… babies and all that."

The smile slipped a little but Kuroro kept it on through sheer force of will. The thought of Midoya breeding an army of tiny Midoyas was terrifying to say the least. It was undoubtedly one of the first signs of the Apocalypse along with the Four Horsemen, the appearance of the Kraken and global famine.

John either didn't know Midoya well or he was an atheist and didn't believe in the apocalypse because his face brightened up even more. "Babies! That is as sweet as mud-pie, I'd say!" he exclaimed. "How many children do you want? Kikita and I haven't decided yet. Maybe we'll try for one next year if we can work it around our careers somehow. It'll be a right doodly-doo if we can have some cute little Kikitas running around."

Ugh, now he had images of these two people _making babies _in his mind. Since that was an utterly horrible image, Kuroro tried to imagine the tall Amazonian pregnant instead and failed completely. It was actually easier envisioning Pepeka pregnant… Oh… oh, his imagination just went to work and what a foul image it had conjured. Pepeka _breeding_. That was the stuff of nightmares. Not the apocalyptic kind, mind, but more of the… maggots on food and flies in cake kind. Gross, nausea-inducing, but not exactly cause for panic. "Oh yes," Midoya said, smiling widely and holding his hand gently. "Babies are so adorable. I could just eat them up." The image of Midoya eating a baby came as a relief after _that_ and Kuroro relaxed into the seat. He caught her eye and smiled at her in gratitude, and she smiled back with a nod of acknowledgement.

"Me too!" John exclaimed obliviously. "I hope our children get my sweetie-sweet's genes though. Look at me. I'm two years younger than her and I look ten years older. It's a right shame when we walk out and people think I'm her dad!"

Ah. That would be the effects of Nen of course, but he wasn't supposed to mention that. Midoya laughed politely and Kuroro, unsure of what else to do, joined her. Fortunately, just as the conversation started to slide into an awkward silence, Kikita reappeared at the entrance of the kitchen.

"Baby, I can't find the sugar," she said. "Will you run down to the store and buy some for me?"

"Of course, my kitty-cat." John climbed to his feet with an embarrassed smile. "I am so sorry; I have no idea how that happened. I'm sure I bought some yesterday. I'll be right back. Cheerio!"

The moment he stepped out of the house, Kikita emerged from the kitchen and plopped a two pound bag of sugar onto Kuroro's lap. "I can't believe I am throwing away five zennis for your sake. Get rid of it when you leave later, and for god's sake, don't let John see it," she said curtly.

"I love how open your marriage is," Midoya commented wryly as Kuroro stared blankly at the large bag of sugar on his lap. "The way you tell your husband everything is so delightful."

Kikita scowled. "Fuck you," she growled. "I fully intend to tell John about my work, okay? Just in bits and pieces. You know what happened the last time I tried to tell Sean what I do, like… on the day of the wedding."

"He left you at the altar," Midoya said with mock sadness. "Why do you ever bother getting married anyway?"

Kikita scowled some more. "I actually love John," she grumbled. "And he wanted to do the monogamous thing, alright? And I just figured, well shit… if it makes him happy… Besides, it wouldn't interfere with my career and stuff. And we're doing fine too, mind you, little Miss Mafioso. It's just the whole explaining part… I mean, John doesn't even like killing cockroaches! How do I explain to a man who screams at cockroaches rather than crushing them that I kill people for a living?"

Kuroro cleared his throat. "Why didn't you marry another Hunter?" he asked with what he felt was quite a great deal of reason. "Another Hunter would understand the nature of your work a lot better than the average person."

To his horror, Midoya and Kikita giggled in stereo. "I tried," Kikita said with a wicked smile.

"She tried," Midoya agreed, wearing a twin to Kikita's smile on her face.

"You tried?" Kuroro questioned cautiously.

"He's six feet under now."

"With a stake through his heart."

"And his head sliced off."

"By the marriage certificate. Poetic justice, we agreed."

"Got that right, girl. You're the only person in the world who gets me. We're motherfucking BFFs for life, bitch."

"I really hate it when you say that. It makes you sound blonde. Oh wait, you _are_ blonde."

As Kuroro stared at them, Kikita grinned and said, "Hunters make the worst marriage partners. We're never around, we're always off doing dangerous things, and we get so violent when we're fucking pissed off."

"Advice taken," Kuroro said dryly. "Good thing I can't legally get married. Anyway, given that you have obviously sent your husband on a false errand, can I assume that you intend to discuss our real reason for being here now?"

"Yes." Immediately, the gorgeous face because solemn as she leaned towards them. "Armando Basilio," she said softly, menacingly. "You want him dead. So do I."

"We are in agreement then." Kuroro smiled faintly. "Since Basilio is based in Agocchi like you, I assume you have a file on him."

"You got that right in one, sugar-pie." From a colourful, floral bag, Kikita retrieved a folder and placed it on the coffee table in front of them. "Everything you need to know about Armando Basilio is in there." Settling back, Kikita went on, "I can give you a quick summary if you like."

"Go ahead," Kuroro said, flipping open the folder.

According to Kikita, thirty year old Armando Basilio was the current head of the Basilio family. He was a shrewd businessman, handsome as the devil and just as evil. He made his business dabbling in human suffering, and he did it with a cruel joy. Under his rule, the Basilio family had, through taking over the other Mafioso in business, become richer and more powerful than it had ever been. Anyone who fought back had been squashed brutally. More importantly, Armando Basilio was a Single Star Treasure Hunter and a powerful Nen-user who had amassed an army of similarly ranked Hunters under him.

"He's a fucking criminal who takes what he wants when he wants," Kikita growled, "and he doesn't care who or what he hurts to get it." She glowered with righteous fervour until Midoya cleared her throat delicately and cocked her head at Kuroro. Kikita stared for a moment with her mouth opened. "Oh. Erm. Which is totally different from the Genei Ryodan because they erm… are pretty cool and all that. _And_ he is nowhere as good-looking as Kuroro," she finished lamely.

"My feelings are not hurt. The Ryodan doesn't really care who we hurt during our missions either," Kuroro said truthfully, holding up a picture of a strikingly handsome man with killer cheekbones, piercing green eyes and carefully styled sandy blonde hair. "This is the infamous Armando Basilio, I presume."

"Yes." Kikita's teeth ground together loud enough to be heard. "He's wearing _alligator skin_ in that picture. He got that from Afriganas too, and it's fucking illegal to hunt alligators there."

"How awful," Kuroro said sympathetically, having regained his love for alligators after spending some time in Meteor City reacquainting himself with the lovely species there. Midoya very carefully looked as innocent as a school girl playing with dolls by herself in the corner of her bedroom.

"Having said that," Kikita said slowly, suddenly much too close to Kuroro for comfort, "your coat. Is that real fur and leather?"

"Faux fur and leather," Kuroro replied immediately. It wasn't exactly a lie either; he had no idea whether his coat was made from real animal parts or not. It _could_ be. Who knows?

"Oh good," Kikita said, still grinning manically. "If not, I would have to kill you."

Kuroro raised an eyebrow. That was practically a line out of Midoya's mouth. "I see why you are such good friends with Midoya," he commented approvingly. "Back to discussing Basilio…" And off the subject of his clothes "It says in this file that he has a mansion in Agocchi. May I assume that is where we will strike at him?"

"Got that in one. Again." Kikita gave a fierce grin that was reminiscent of her little brother's. "Armando Basilio is a fucking mole who disappears for months on end. However, one day from now, he is holding a ball at his mansion where the rich and famous will gather to chat and wear dead animals on their bodies."

"Security will be tight," Kuroro pointed.

"Über tight," Midoya agreed sweetly. "All those dear One Star Hunters, gathered in one place to die. I feel as bad for them as I feel for green eggs and hams." Kikita giggled. Kuroro stared. "Old joke," Midoya explained, patting his arm.

"Oh," Kuroro said, and felt very left-out. "So one day from now, we are going to break into Armando Basilio's house and kill him. How are we going to do that?"

"We're going to get an invite to the ball," Midoya said confidently. "It is a mafia ball. I may be able to do something about that. I was thinking of contacting…"

"I thought you've been kidnapped and ravished?" Kuroro interrupted. "Are you sure you want to use your mafia connections when you're supposed to be missing?"

"Kidnapped, ravished, but still head of the Kito estate," Midoya pointed out cheerfully. "We heads of estates have excellent ways of being kidnapped, ravished and still functional at the same time."

"Ah, I love all this illegal shit," Kikita said happily. "Are we going on a spree anytime soon, Midoya?"

"Once this mess is cleaned up, sure," Midoya agreed, looking more relaxed than Kuroro had ever seen her. "Kuroro can come along if he wants to."

"I don't shop," Kuroro told her confusedly. She should know his idea of 'getting groceries' is walking through the mart and sneaking things into the ever-useful Fun Fun cloth.

"Who said anything about shopping?"

"We are totally talking about killing something."

"Oh." Kuroro thought about that. "Then I am quite interested. I do enjoy the occasional massacre or slaughter of humans."

Kikita sighed wistfully. "Your boyfriend is awesome," she told Midoya. "I wish my husband would go out and kill things with me too. But he doesn't even like watching horror movies. He likes chick flicks. I don't understand why they're called 'chick' flicks though. They are obviously designed for romantic people, not baby birds."

Since Kuroro felt annoyed about being called Midoya's 'boyfriend' but didn't want to kill Kikita until she had helped them kill Basilio, he said, "Midoya, you said you might have a way of finding tickets to the ball. Explain...?" He belatedly remembered Midoya wasn't Ryodan and turned the last word from an order into a request instead.

"Ah yes, about that, my dearest husband-to-be." Suddenly, Midoya's smile grew feral. "Since we're about to get married and have two point seven children…"

"Goodness, the images…"

"It's about time we take the next step in our relationship."

Kuroro gave her a look. "Midoya?" he questioned warningly. What he was warning her about, he had no idea though.

"It's about time," Midoya continued with great relish, "that you meet my family."

Kuroro's jaw dropped and he let it hang there unabashedly. "Your family?" he demanded, too disturbed by the look of utter horror and pity on Kikita's face to say anything else. "You have family you haven't murdered yet?"

The expression on Midoya's face was pure evil. "Oh yes, darling, I do. And I already know that you will _love_ my dearest Aunt Annabella…"

* * *

A/N: I don't know if any of you have noticed, but the pace for this story is a little slow. The reason for it is that this story has gotten too long and I have a feeling I'm going to have to break it into two separate stories. So, I hope no one minds the slower pacing. I am trying out a slightly different style of writing, so I am still figuring out what works and what doesn't. Do give me feedback if you have any; it will be greatly appreciated! Constructive criticism is always welcome.

Trivial: When Midoya said that the heads of estates had the remarkable ability to remain functional even when kidnapped and ravished, she hadn't been kidding. Once, at the age of seventeen, she had been kidnapped and ravished by her ex-boyfriend for half a year. Yet, she still managed to start and win a war against a rival family, build two new business enterprises, expand her estate twofold and buy over an entire country. It was an extremely remarkable performance for one so young, most mafia heads agreed.

However, in general, it is agreed that the award for the Head That Remained the Most Efficient While Kidnapped and Ravished goes to Eamon Hendrik. According to the Historical Record of Mafia Heads, Hendrik, Head of the Hendrik Estate, had been kidnapped in his late teens. Though he had remained missing for the next seventy years, the Hendrik estate, under his rule, remains one of the most prominent and rich estates in the entire world. As the Hendrik estate butler likes to say, "Mr Hendrik is most inspired after two rounds in the sack. I don't know who kidnapped and ravished Mr Hendrik, but the Hendrik estate is extremely grateful for it."


	4. Of Blonde Wigs and Middleaged Spinsters

A/N: This is the sequel to A Series of Politically Inappropriate Happenings. This story will be a little different from the previous two (which were quite different from the first installment of The Series). It was inspired by two things: first, a desire to try a slightly different genre other than Humour (a more serious one, one might say) and second, the criticism that Kuroro's relationship with Midoya is a little too perfect. So, this story took a while to come out.

Truthfully, I considered not publishing it because the more serious genres of Angst/Tragedy etc are not quite familiar to me and I'm not sure how my dear readers will take to it. However, I decided to just go for it, and I hope I don't let you down.

Disclaimer:I do not own Hunter X Hunter and all the characters affiliated with the manga/anime. All OCs are mine and mine alone. The views stated by the characters do not always reflect the views of the author either.

* * *

Of Blonde Wigs and Middle-aged Spinsters

Initially, Kuroro refused to go with a great deal of dignity. He sat firmly on the pink couch, the cushion with a baby's face on it planted primly on his lap, and flat-out refused to budge from his position. This reluctance on his part to meet any of Midoya's family was born out of two very important reasons. Firstly, the moment Midoya had mentioned her aunt's name, Kikita had reacted with a look of such profound sympathy that could only mean there was something _very_ wrong with Midoya's aunt. Secondly, this Annabella is related to Midoya, and that is reason enough not to meet her. Kuroro had long known that Midoya was potentially the only normal person in her family and that… said a lot. Hence, based on these, Kuroro felt it was not beyond reason for him to refuse to meet this Annabella, whoever she was.

Unfortunately, Midoya obviously disagreed as seen by the way she tried all means of getting him to move, including threats, bribes, pleas and seduction. It was a fairly close call when she stood up and started to do a strip-tease but Kuroro, Dancho of the Genei Ryodan, was made of pure determination, and he managed to ignore the show that was going on, though the cushion no longer sat as evenly on his lap as it did earlier. Eventually, Midoya gave up and decided that if he wasn't going to move, she was going to do so for him. Kuroro took one look at her face and decided that if he was going to be forced to meet Midoya's aunt, he was going to do so with dignity.

Climbing to his feet, Kuroro brushed down his coat and fastidiously smoothed his hair. "Alright, alright," he said irritably. "I'll go along with you, you little witch."

"Oh honey, I love you," Midoya gushed, her eyes wide with insincere adoration. "Our marriage is going to be _fabulous_!"

For a brief moment, Kuroro considered killing Midoya (or at least doing some grievous harm to her body), but the reappearance of an understandably confused John Smith deterred him from doing so. "Where are you going?" John called out as they piled into the rental car Midoya had magically summoned. "I bought the sugar!"

"We are going to Hell and there is not enough sugar on Earth to sweeten that," Kuroro told him solemnly.

"Oh Kuroro, you are a born comedian," Midoya tittered. "Toodles, John!"

"Uh… toodles…?" John gave a confused wave in reply to her jolly finger-wave as they drove off.

"You are being entirely too cheerful," Kuroro complained as he turned left at a junction as per Midoya's instructions. "Is it because you are planning my impending death?"

"Not at all dear," Midoya said patiently. "We are going to find a way to get tickets to that ball, not get you murdered. Why are you so against meeting my aunt?"

"Because prior to leaving the house, Kikita said very seriously to me that she will prepare a lovely funeral for me." Kuroro glanced at Midoya's amused expression. "On general principles that a powerful Hunter knows what she's saying when it comes to matters of life and death, I fully expect to not survive this meeting with your aunt. I am sure you understand my reticence now."

"Hmm, it is entirely possible you wouldn't survive the meeting, yes, because you really never know when you will die now, do you? I mean, you could easily die by choking fatally on a piece of bread," Midoya said thoughtfully, "but I have great faith in you, dear. You _are_ Dancho of the Genei Ryodan after all, and you are going in pre-warned. I'm sure you will do just fine."

"Pre-warned?" Kuroro arched an eyebrow at her. "Midoya, I don't even know why I should fear your aunt, though I assure you I have a very healthy fear of her now. I hardly feel pre-warned. Would you care to explain?"

"Ah…" Midoya waved a hand about as if she was searching for the correct words. "She's… well, my aunt is a very lovely woman."

Kuroro's eyebrow went even higher. "A lovely woman?"

"She's really short, like me, and cute, and kind of senile." Midoya paused in thought. "She's actually closer to eighty than seventy, so she's not always _there_, you know? But overall, she's quite a sweet old lady who likes cats and puppies." Another pause as Midoya dredged the depths of her family history. "Her husband, my dear Uncle Brian is dead," she informed him. "They never had kids because like most people of my bloodline, she's barren and he's impotent. They both like cakes and porcelain dolls. Quite a good match they made. Though the marriage was arranged, I believe they quite bonded over lace dollies. Turn right at the next traffic light, dear."

Kuroro frowned as he did as told. "She doesn't sound too scary," he said tentatively. Another thought struck him, and he asked, "Are you barren too? I assume you aren't."

"Why do you say that?" Midoya asked, blinking at him.

"Because you always insist I use protection when we have sex," Kuroro said, pleased with his deduction.

"That could be for protection against disease too," Midoya pointed out, and Kuroro stared at her in shock until she gestured for him to keep his eyes on the road where a giant tanker was bearing down on them at an alarming speed. "Darling, we don't exactly live together. How would I know what you do in between the months we meet each other?"

"You mean… you think I'm doing someone else other than you?" Kuroro asked slowly as he narrowly avoided collision with the tanker, which blasted its horn at them rudely.

Midoya stared back at him. "Dear, you never claimed to be monogamous to me," she said reasonably, "just like I never claimed to be monogamous to you."

"Well yes, that is true." Kuroro thought about that. "So you have been having sex with other men?"

Her eyebrow went up at that. "Kuroro dear, I don't really kiss and tell, though if you must know, I haven't had any other partners since we got together while finding your Jyonen-user," she said dryly. Peering at his face, she asked, "Are you really upset about this?"

Kuroro thought about it. "No," he said finally, which was part-truth and part-lie. He wasn't upset that Midoya wasn't monogamous to him. Monogamy, any student of biology and zoology will tell you, is in nature, more often the exception than the norm after all, and who was he to argue with Mother Nature? At the same time, he never really liked sharing things that he thought of as his. Not that Midoya would appreciate knowing that he thought of her as his. Ultimately, she was her own person after all, and Kuroro didn't have the right to dictate what she did in her daily life. She did say she hadn't had any lovers since they got together permanently, though she could be lying to prevent his feelings from being hurt. How likely was that though? She had no reason to lie.

At least that's what he told the Neanderthal that he had recently discovered resided in him. It didn't like what it heard, so Kuroro beat it up till it did.

"Well, as long as you're not upset," Midoya said still watching him cautiously. "Oh, we're reaching Aunt Annabella's house in a couple of minutes. Turn in there."

Glad for the change in topic, Kuroro did as told, turning into what turned out to be a surprisingly plain and bland driveway. "I do hope your aunt is as tame as you say she is," he said mildly. "I have difficulty handling one Kito already; I have no idea how well I will do with two."

"Oh, my aunt isn't Kito," Midoya said absently. "She's a Dunstan. Annabella Jane Dunstan, sister of Miharu May Dunstan, my mother, and thus my Aunt from my mother's side." She paused and added, "She could also be my cousin twice removed, my cousin-in-law or my great grand-aunt. But it gets confusing if I try to sort that out, so I just see her as my aunt."

Now it was Kuroro's turn to raise his eyebrow. "How on earth does that happen?" he demanded as they climbed out of the car.

Midoya waved a dismissive hand about. "We are a very inbred bunch, us Kitos and Dunstans." Coming around to stand next to him, Midoya took his hand and whispered very softly, "More importantly, Kuroro, when you see my aunt, _do not say anything about geese._"

"Oh. Geese. Sure." Eyeing her suspiciously, Kuroro followed Midoya up a rather innocuous pathway to a rather innocuous door.

Stopping before the plain wooden door, Midoya raised her hand and knocked politely. "Hello?" she called. "Anyone home?"

"_Who is it?"_ a querulous voice called out.

"It's June, dear Auntie," Midoya shouted.

"_Who?"_

"June! Your niece, Auntie!"

"Is it safe to announce that to the world?" Kuroro asked. "I thought we're going incognito here."

"This neighbourhood is mafia-clean, relax."

"How on earth can you be sure?"

Before Midoya could reply, the door swung open and a shrivelled hunchback of an old woman appeared before them. Though Midoya had warned him that her aunt was closer to eighty, Kuroro still hadn't expected her to look _that_ old (not everyone knows Nen, he reminded himself). She was dressed in a long-sleeved, full-length flowery dress of a fashion that had become out-dated fifty years ago. Her hair was pure white, frizzy and tied up in a neat knot at the back of her head and she peered at them over glasses that covered eyes milky with cataracts. A walking stick was clutched in one thin, heavily-veined hand.

"_Oh_! June!" the old woman cried in the same querulous voice and hobbled over to Midoya, clutching her feebly and kissing her on each acne-scarred cheek. "Oh, my dearest baby! You haven't visited in years! Look at how you've grown! The last time I saw you, you were still in diapers." Diapers and Midoya; Kuroro tried to keep his face straight at that image.

"I visited last year, Auntie," Midoya said, her private school accent more pronounced than ever. "I got you a chocolate truffle cake."

"Oh, is that so?" the old woman questioned, looking confused. "You must forgive my failing memory. I am sure I enjoyed the cake though. And ah! Dear Nicholas, how good to see you again!" Kuroro blinked as she placed trembling, heavily-veined hands on him and stroked his cheeks shakily. "Why have you not visited in so long? You know how much I have always liked you."

"That's not Nicholas, Auntie," Midoya said patiently. "This is Kuroro, he's my uh… boyfriend."

"Is that so?" the old woman peered at Kuroro's face intently. "Are you playing a joke on me, young lady? I am quite sure this is Nicholas. I had Nicholas for ten years, you know, before I was forced to leave him with dear Miharu? I would know how my own dog looks like."

"Of course, of course," Midoya said soothingly as Kuroro frowned deeply and tried to figure out which part of his face looked like a dog's and whether he should feel complimented or insulted. "May we come in, Auntie?"

Thin, cracked lips parted in horror. "Goodness! Where are my manners?" the elderly woman hobbled aside. "Come in, come in. Wipe Nicholas down before you let him in, dear. You know how dogs get mud all over the place."

"Yes, of course," Midoya said, ignoring Kuroro's warning look. Taking a handkerchief from her pocket, she gave his face a token wipe or two, obviously trying not to smile as she did. "All done, Auntie."

"Good, good," the old woman said, already hobbling away from them. "Come on in! Take a seat! I have cookies in the oven. Would you like some tea? I have a wonderful Ceylon blend that your father sent me just last month. Such a nice man, your father. I am always so glad your mother married well."

"That would be lovely," Midoya said agreeably, wandering into the house.

When the elderly woman disappeared into the kitchen, Midoya steered Kuroro to a genuine tea table covered with a white lacy table cloth with lace dollies on it. As they sat down, Kuroro looked around at the china in the cupboards, porcelain dolls lining the shelves and the lack of any technology beyond a telephone that dated to the seventies. It was exactly what he would expect in the house of a woman well into the seventh decade of her life. "She seems quite harmless," he commented tentatively.

"See? I told you she is an absolute darling. You had nothing to fear at all." Midoya patted his arm and smiled absently at the dolls. "Just don't eat the cookies or drink the tea."

"Why not?"

"Because they will be poisoned."

Somehow, Kuroro managed to school his face into an appropriately canine look before the old woman came back with a tray carrying a plate of cookies and tea that smelled awful. "Cookies for you dear," she said kindly, placing the plate in front of Midoya. "And cookies for Nicholas."

A bone-shaped cookie was dropped on the table in front of him and Kuroro stared at it as if he wanted to torture it to death – slowly – with a safety pin – a _blunt_ safety pin.

"Thank you, Auntie," Midoya said politely as an old, wrinkled hand ruffled Kuroro's hair affectionately. Once she was done, Kuroro wasted no time smoothing his hair down again fastidiously, deliberately ignoring the look of pure glee on Midoya's face.

"Oh, not at all dear," the old woman said, sitting herself down next to Midoya. "Come, let me take a look at my favourite niece. Oh! How lovely you look now. The boys must be falling over themselves to meet you. Are you getting married anytime soon? You must make good use of your child-bearing hips before you die."

"Of course, Auntie," Midoya said as Kuroro contemplated cutting up the bone-shaped cookie, starting from one knob before advancing to the other, in true Feitan-style. "How have you been lately?"

"Lonely, of course," the old woman said bluntly. "My dear, you _must_ visit more often. You know how lonely I get with Brian working all the time and never home."

"I will," Midoya promised. "I'm sorry I haven't come by in a while. You know how work is."

"Oh, work! Pshaw! Work is for peasant women whose husbands can't afford to keep them! Aristocratic women do not work. You need to find a good man who will take care of you. You wouldn't want to ruin your hands _working_."

Kuroro looked up from his partially dismembered victim at that. He hadn't been aware that Midoya was aristocratic in anyway. Idly, he wondered if the old woman was using that term loosely to refer to 'rich' people or if the Kito/Dunstan families really had royal blood in them. But he didn't ask. Annabella Dunstan was very advanced in age and a talking dog might just give her a heart attack. He was sure Midoya would be angry if he accidentally caused her ageing aunt's death.

"Of course Auntie," Midoya said in reply to her aunt's comments. "I'm sure I will find a good man soon." Her voice was heavy with irony but it seemed to slide past Annabella entirely.

"Good, good," the old woman beamed. "And how are your parents? Good, I hope?"

"As good as ever," Midoya replied, which was, Kuroro mused, pretty much the truth since they were dead. "Auntie dear, I have a favour to ask of you."

"Yes dear?"

"There will be a ball at the Basilio mansion one day from now. Did you get any invites?"

The old woman thought about that hard. "On my mantel-piece," she said as if she wasn't certain. "An invite for me and a date." She smiled wistfully at that. "I haven't had a date in years, not since Brian died. It would be nice to start dating again."

"I'm sure it will be, Midoya said, standing up and heading for the mantel-piece. "Is the invite over here?"

"Yes dear, right there." The old woman leaned forward towards Kuroro and beamed at him. "Come, let me scratch your ears, dear. What a good doggy you are. What a precious little _good_ doggy you are you."

Kuroro hesitated for a moment as the hands hovered just out of reach. Should he allow her to _scratch his ears_? The horrifying vision of those long, yellow nails touching any part of him made his mind up for him. "Goodness, no," he said firmly, deciding that it was time to abandon his cover as Nicholas the dog in favour of preserving the remaining shreds of his dignity. "No scratching my ears."

Annabella Dunstan blinked.

The next thing Kuroro knew, the elderly, wrinkled woman was straining against him, a meat carver in hand as she screamed and slashed violently at his throat. It seemed talking dogs triggered homicidal rages instead of cardiac arrests. He wished someone had told him that beforehand. "Midoya," Kuroro called urgently, holding the woman back as gently as he could. He could kill her, break the fragile wrists he was holding, but he really didn't want to do that unless she forced his hand.

"Just keep her off for a second," Midoya replied calmly from the mantel-piece where she was rifling through a pile of papers. "And be gentle with her. She's really old and suffers from osteoporosis."

"You are asking for a lot," Kuroro complained then pulled his face out of reach as the knife almost nicked it.

"I'll kill you!" the elderly woman shrieked, spittle spraying onto his face as she struggled to bring the carver down on him. "I will kill you! Kill you! Kill you!" Then just as suddenly as it had started, the old woman stopped struggling and leaned away from him with a kind smile. "Brian dear, welcome home," she said affectionately. "Did you like the lunch I packed for you?"

Since she was no longer trying to kill him, Kuroro decided to assume the cover identity of 'Brian', and replied, "Yes. It was lovely."

"I made it different today," she said coyly. "Can you guess what's different?"

Kuroro stared at her, already tired of his role as 'Brian' the dead husband. "You put cyanide in it?" he guessed, half-jokingly.

"Close. It was arsenic." She beamed. "I always knew you were cheating on me with my sister."

"What? Miharu?" That would explain how the Kitos got so inbred.

"Oh no, I meant Zina, my youngest sister. I've seen the way you look at her, you pedophile. I can guess what you've been doing in our marriage bed all those times I was out having tea with my cats."

"How… regretful," Kuroro said for the sake of saying something. At least she wasn't trying to kill him anymore.

Like magic, Midoya appeared from behind him, a cream envelope in her hand. "Got it," she murmured softly.

"Whore," the elderly woman said bitterly, staring hatefully at Midoya. "Family-breaker. I wish Father had disowned you as a child."

"I have to be off now," Midoya smiled, looking unruffled. "I'll drop by to visit again, Auntie."

"Be sure to." Annabella Dunstan's face lit up in a cheerful smile. "You know how much I love you, dear June. You've always been my favourite Kito, unlike your parents who are absolute bastards."

"I love you too, Auntie," Midoya said, giving her aunt a kiss on the cheeks. "We'll let ourselves out."

"Goodbye, June, Brian."

As they walked out of the house, Kuroro caught a glimpse of the old woman staring after them, hatred burning in her eyes and the carver back in her hands.

* * *

Safely back in the car, Kuroro gave Midoya his most wounded and accusing look. "Harmless, you say?" he demanded.

"She doesn't know Nen."

"And she's sweet?"

"She offered you cookies and tea."

"She thought I was her dog."

"Dogs are cute."

"_And_ she tried to kill me."

"Half the world has tried to kill you before at one time or the other. Don't whine dear, it's not very flattering on a grown man." Midoya smiled at him, dimples and all. "Surely you are magnanimous enough to forgive an old lady?"

"Surely." Kuroro started the car, glancing at the map to the hotel as he did. "Did she really poison her husband?"

"No," Midoya told him calmly. "She poisoned her dog. Her husband died in bed."

Kuroro's eyebrow greeted his hairline. "In bed."

"After she stabbed him thirty-seven times with a meat carver."

"And why did she do that?"

"She thought he was going to elope with the dog." A pause. "She was right."

"Your family is twisted," Kuroro said as they left Annabella Dunstan behind. "Absolutely twisted. I would be appalled if I didn't meet so many insane people in Meteor City on a regular basis, and have thus acquired a degree of immunity to insanity. I wish Pepeka was here to be appalled on my behalf. Wait a minute, I _wish_ Pepeka was here? Goodness, I believe this insanity thing is contagious."

"Insanity runs in the family, yes," Midoya agreed. "I fully expect to join the ranks of my family one day and go irredeemably insane."

"You mean you haven't already done so? I always thought juggling your criminal and legal activities the way you do must have given you a split personality of sorts," Kuroro said, though he didn't really think she was insane. The day Midoya went insane would be the day Netero's vision of Midoya as a super villain came true. "Speaking of criminal activities, what does that invite say?"

"The usual rubbish," Midoya replied, casually glancing through the invite. "You have been cordially invited to a Masquerade Ball at the Basilio Mansion, Agocchi. Formal wear. Dinner will be served at eight in the evening. Cocktails from seven. The usual." She folded the invite and looked at Kuroro solemnly, "The invite isn't as interesting as what it doesn't say."

"What doesn't it say?"

"What the purpose of the ball is," Midoya said thoughtfully. "The mafia estates don't hold balls often. They only do so when they want to show off something. Given that Aunt Annabella got an invite, it says something about the nature of the item… to be showed off."

Kuroro gave her an inquisitive glance.

"Aunt Annabella, if you will believe it, is extremely powerful in the mafia circles."

Kuroro thought of the lace dollies and porcelain dolls decorating Midoya's aunt's house and raised a doubtful eyebrow. Then he thought of her wielding a meat carver and poisoning her dog, and his eyebrow went down. "I can see that."

"She is one of the few people in Agocchi whom the York Shin mafia will bow to. She's not exactly mafia of course. Like me, she has a certain skill set that makes her useful to the mafia. She plays a kind of… mediating role between York Shin and Agocchi. It's why there is a mafia-free zone two miles in every direction from her house. This neighbourhood, if you will believe it, is considered neutral territory. Any Mafioso stepping into this territory is be shot on sight. By Aunt Annabella I mean. I did mention she is a world-class, qualified sniper?"

"I am not surprised. So, based on what you just told me, she is someone who can help mafia from Agocchi enter York Shin," Kuroro concluded, brows furrowed in thought. "You think Basilio has already found the Infinity Gem."

Midoya fidgeted a little as she thought. "It's possible," she admitted. "I'm not too sure though. If he had found it, I would have expected to hear about it by now. My butler has been instructed to stay tuned to the grapevine and to inform me if something comes up. So far, word is that Basilio is still searching for the Infinity Gem. Oh, and the Ryodan got attacked again. They are fine. Apparently pictures of Feitan beheading their captives went viral on the Net. According to my butler, he looked good in them too. He's a very photogenic man, that Feitan. He has his own online fan club now, made up of teenage girls, bored housewives and extremely revolting paedophiles. I wouldn't be surprised if he starts receiving marriage proposals soon."

"But of course," Kuroro said, feeling a surge of pride over how multi-talented his Ryodan is, "Still, even if it is true that Basilio has found the Infinity Gem and is no longer hunting the Ryodan, our goals still have not changed. He has attacked us multiple times and has killed residents of Meteor City. I will have his death."

"That's what I like about you, dear, your relentlessness, especially when it's not directed at me," Midoya said warmly. She looked around suddenly as if she had just become aware of their surroundings. "Kuroro, where are we going?"

"The hotel," Kuroro told her. "There's not much else we can do today. We might as well stop for dinner and rest."

"That's all fine and all, dear, but please stop at that corner first."

"Why?" Kuroro asked, even as he obeyed her instructions.

Instead of answering, Midoya felt around in the back for her bag and dragged it to the front. As he watched, she started to pull a baby blue shirt from it, followed by a flowery dress and a blonde wig. With a straight face, she pulled off her top and plopped the blonde wig on her head.

"Midoya?" Kuroro asked dubiously. "Is this some bizarre form of foreplay? If it is, I would like to inform you that firstly, I much prefer your natural hair colour, and secondly, this is really not the place for kinky sex."

"It's not foreplay, dear. I have more taste than this. These are disguises," Midoya told him. "Kikita's area and Aunt Annabella's area are not exactly mafia hotbeds, but our hotel is very close to the centre of town where there are plenty of watchful mafia thugs. We'll need to be in disguise there."

"Oh." The blue shirt was pressed into his hands and Kuroro stared at it in dismay. "I like turtles?" he questioned, reading the slogan off the front of the shirt.

"No, darling, you _love_ turtles. And distressed jeans," Midoya said, clearly amused as she shoved a pair of jeans into his reluctant hands.

"Why are the jeans distressed? Have you been torturing them? I do see holes in the knees." Kuroro shook them out and looked them over critically. "And the edges are frayed. Did you get them from Meteor City? You do know Meteor City isn't exactly _the _high fashion capital of the world."

"It's meant to be like that, dear. Holes in knees are... were fashionable… some decades ago."

"Is that so? I don't see the point to them. I don't like my knees to be cold; it's just asking for a bad case of arthritis when I get older." Kuroro eyed the shirt sourly. "Do I have to wear that?"

"You can wear the dress instead," Midoya replied tartly. "Now hurry up and get dressed before we attract an audience. Come on, turtle-boy."

"Oh, alright," Kuroro muttered and resigned himself to being a victim of Midoya's peculiar sense of humour.

By the time they were done, they looked as different from their usual selves as was possible. Dressed in that baby blue T-shirt which declared Kuroro _loved turtles_, distressed jeans, white sneakers, and a tie-dye bandanna for his tattoo, Kuroro concluded that someone in the Ryodan must have told her about the disguise he had used in Hun. He didn't recognise himself in the mirror under all that positive, hippie nonsense, and he doubted anyone would.

However, as good as his disguise was, Midoya's disguise truly took the cake, ate it and vomited it out in a shower of colourful sprinkles and glitter. Her disguise was much more elaborate, with a blonde wig, blue contacts, a large pair of shades, a large sun hat, Mary Janes, and a dress crowded with flower prints that was so _not-Midoya_ it gave Kuroro cognitive dissonance just looking at her.

"We are now husband and wife by the way," Midoya told him crisply as Kuroro started the car again before a friendly neighbour decided to call the police on the young couple stripping in their car. She produced a pair of matching rings and slipped one onto his finger. It fit perfectly. "We're on our honeymoon. That's our reason for being in the hotel."

"So we've bypassed the entirely wedding ceremony," Kuroro commented, glancing at the ring and wondering if Midoya would let him keep it. From the feel of it, Kuroro thought it might be real gold. The value of gold was high now, and he could probably sell it for a nice profit. "What, no wedding cake and orgies and…" Kuroro dredged the recesses of his cultural memory, trying to remember what it was that people did at weddings, "no ritual branding of people with a hot poker?"

"None at all, dear. I would like to go through all the proper ritualistic nonsense with you, of course, but I am much too impatient for that. I couldn't wait to get you into bed, you see."

"Ah. I like the way your mind works."

"And the hotel has a bed," Midoya purred as she started to layer heavy makeup onto her face. "A very nice and large bed."

"How thoughtful of them," Kuroro commented and pressed down on the accelerator. "By the way," he added, almost as an afterthought, "how _do_ couples act anyway? Married couples, I mean. I don't have any acquaintances that are married, so I don't have a portfolio to draw on to create this character."

"Oh. Just leave that to me."

The grin in her voice had him glancing over at her. "What are you planning now, Midoya?" he asked, feeling he had every right to be nervous after the pain she had just inflicted on him.

The grin now turned on him. "Nothing much," she purred, "only something that will set our cover story _just right_."

* * *

Aysha Mandrinas was sitting behind the counter of the hotel when the couple walked in.

For forty years, since she was seven, Aysha Mandrinas had worked behind the counter of this hotel. It had been established by her great-grandfather some hundred and fifty years ago, and generation after generation had taken over in the running of the hotel. It had never become a big franchise like some other hotel names, but it was a good hotel, solid and decent, with nice amenities and good food. It had also stayed true to the roots of their culture. The _Mandrinas_ tribe had originally been a nomadic tribe that lived off the mountains of Beitt. However, the speedy urbanization of the mountains had forced the tribe into the city where they had slowly assimilated into the lifestyle of the city-dwellers.

Looking around the modest hotel, with the furnishings decorated with coloured glass beads and the wind-chimes hanging from the ceiling, Aysha liked to think that this hotel's survival was a testimony to the hardiness of the _Mandrinas_ tribe. Even if their time has long passed, the tribe will still survive because it damn well will.

Still, despite her pride in her culture and the hotel, Aysha couldn't help wondering if there was… perhaps… something… _outside_ the hotel. So often, guests at the hotel would speak of their home country, of the wonders and sights, of the food and culture. One day, Aysha thought it might be nice to actually go somewhere and see those sights. But who would look after the hotel then? Aysha had no children of her own, and all her nieces and nephews had long left Agocchi, seeking the greener pastures of York Shin. Her brother was still here, but dear Samul was as intelligent as a rock and would undoubtedly ruin the hotel with his inability to tell the difference between land taxes and a llama's ass. Aysha sighed. Was she destined to spend the rest of her life tied to this hotel? Was that truly a fate she could live with?

It was, at that moment, while Aysha was thinking about her future, that the most stunning man she had ever laid her eyes on walked in through the front door.

He was perhaps of average height and size, but everything else about him was nowhere near average. His skin was pale, so pale he appeared to be glowing in the bright afternoon sun. In contrast, his hair and large, lovely eyes were an intense, impenetrable shade of black. There was no colour in his face except in his lips, which were the faintest shade of pink. He wore a fitting pair of jeans with holes at the knees, and a baby blue shirt which declared he loved turtles. The way the clothes hugged his body as he moved made them look like something off the runways.

Behind the counter, Aysha inhaled sharply with repressed sexual desire then sighed again, this time more with wistfulness than weariness. Great, super wonderfully awesomely great; the one day the most beautiful man on this earth walks into her hotel was the one day she hadn't bothered to powder her nose. _Madri_, the man was so beautiful. If only she was twenty years younger…

"Hi!" a chirpy voice said. Abruptly, Aysha realised it had been a _couple_ who had walked in, not a lone man. She had been so absorbed in staring at those dark, intense eyes making their way towards her that she hadn't even noticed the lady hanging off his arm.

"Good afternoon," Aysha greeted warmly, tearing her eyes off the man's uh… face to look at the woman. Blonde, fair and with blue eyes; somewhat pleasant-looking in a rather bland way, and with rather too much makeup on the face. A dress crowded with tiny flower prints and the giant sun hat completed the touristy look. The smile on the pleasant face was wide and vacant. "Do you have a reservation?"

"Under Mr and Mrs Carman," the woman said happily. "It's our honeymoon. Like, we just got married. Like yesterday. It was such a pretty wedding, with like flowers and ribbons, and like we exchanged rings and stuff. I mean, we totally only did that because we wanted to be like _avant-garde_, but it was like so cool and stuff."

Aysha managed to keep the smile on her face by virtue of years working behind the counter where she had met the weirdest people. "That's lovely," she said politely, flipping through the ledger. There it was: Mr and Mrs Carman. "Good day, Sir, Madam. My name is Aysha and I'll be your host while you're here."

"Thank you! Oh, but we totally didn't invite _you_ to our wedding!" the woman exclaimed, looking horrified. "Oh, you must not think that we like hate you or anything. We'll invite you when we totally exchange our vows again like a hundred years from now."

"That… that would be nice," Aysha said, truly bewildered for the first time since she started working in this hotel. How on earth had this _stupid_ young woman caught a man as hot as the one standing next to her? She snuck a look at Mr Carman. His face, even up close, was still as lovely as a wet dream, but his expression was devoid of any emotions. Maybe that's how they got along, Aysha mused as she took the key to the honeymoon suite down from the box behind her; he was too emotionless to care that his wife was an absolute dolt. But _damn_ was he hot. Aysha really wished she had worn some lipstick. "I hope you enjoy your stay in Agocchi," she told them as she led them up the stairs to the suite. "There are many things to do in Agocchi. Do you have any plans for tomorrow?"

"Oh, we were like thinking of walking around the city," Mrs Carman said, smiling brightly. "It'll be like a totally nice walk!"

"The city is a little too big for that, Mrs Carman," Aysha told her, trying to hide a smile. "You could hire a driver to take you around if you like. Our hotel has a chauffeuring service. For three hundred zennis a day, my brother will chauffeur you around the whole day."

"Why do we need a chauffeur for?" the woman asked, looking puzzled. "We're like married already. We don't need someone keeping an eye on us. We are totally allowed to have sex together now."

Sex. _Madri_. The image of that man in the throes of passion, skin covered with sweat, body straining with unreleased tension, his lips parted as he moaned... Aysha cleared her throat and somehow managed to say, in a calm and not-sex-starved voice, "No, chauffeur, as in… he will just drive you around to wherever you want to go."

"Oh! Well why didn't you like say so?" the woman looked at her husband. "What do you think, honey?"

"We should decide what we want to do before we hire anybody," the man said in a calm, even voice. _Madri_, his voice was as sexy as his looks. Good lord, if he started singing Sinatra, Aysha was just going to abandon all dignity and clothing, and jump his bones.

"True," the woman said slowly. Maybe the idea of thinking before acting was too complicated for her brain to comprehend. "Oh my precious honey-bunny sugar-plum, you are so smart. This is why I love you so much."

It seemed to Aysha that the man looked like he was in agony. She wasn't sure though; his expression was so blank, and the only hint that something was wrong was the slightest furrowing of his brow. "Why don't you tell me what you like to do and I can recommend some activities to try out in Agocchi?" she suggested as they walked down the corridor towards the suite.

"I like flowers," the woman said immediately. "And like… roses. And violets. They are kind of like flowers, but purple."

"Violets and roses _are_ flowers," the man commented in a wretched tone, as if he hadn't wanted to say it but couldn't stop himself from doing so.

"Like, _oh my god_, you must totally be kidding me!"

For a moment, she thought the man might actually turn and run away, but he didn't. So Aysha tried to pretend she hadn't seen anything. Poor man! Barely a day into his marriage and he must already be regretting it! "Agocchi has some lovely parks," Aysha told them as she unlocked the door to the suite. "You could take a walk there, but the parks are really small and will barely occupy you for more than a day. How about you, sir, what do you like?" Please say threesomes with middle-aged spinsters. Please.

The man stared at her with those dark, intense eyes. "Turtles," he said and walked into the room.

The woman laughed, a surprisingly knowing laugh, as if she had gotten a joke Aysha hadn't. "Oh that silly," the woman said, taking the keys from Aysha's unresisting hand. "Why on earth would he like turtles? Turtles are like the ugliest flowers in the world." Humming cheerfully, the woman disappeared into the room and the door closed on Aysha, still standing there with a shocked look on her face.

* * *

As soon as the door closed on the middle-aged woman who had shown them to their rooms, the vacant look vanished from Midoya's face and she raised an eyebrow at Kuroro amusedly. "Turtles?" she asked.

"It was the first thing that came to mind. Do remember I've barely had fifteen minutes to form this particular persona," Kuroro replied, looking in the modest bathroom which hosted a standing shower and some basic amenities. The room was nowhere near as luxurious as some of the places he had seen Midoya live in, but it was homely and cosy. The room was a queen-sized bed, covered with a hand-sewn quilt. There was a table and two chairs made of wood. The suite had been made into the 'honeymoon suite' by the addition of flowers and a card that read 'Wishing You a Blessed Marriage'. "Was our cover story set sufficiently for you?"

"I couldn't be more satisfied," Midoya said, chuckling. "Our dear host now believes that two of the dumbest people in the world have wedded, presumably in an attempt to ensure the devolution of humanity back to apes, and that we are going to wander around Agocchi doing whatever it is that people on honeymoon do." Still smiling, she wandered around the room, switching on the television and looking in the cupboards.

"To the horror of humanity." Kuroro watched her over the top of the book he had pulled out from his pocket. "I wonder why it is that every time I'm on a mission with you, my reputation suffers a severe blow."

"I dirty everything I touch, dear, but you already knew that," Midoya joked and disappeared into the bathroom.

In the bathroom, the shower turned on, a sound Kuroro always found strangely soothing. Combined with the soft sounds coming from the television, it made for a rather pleasant white noise in the background. The seconds ticked past and Kuroro sank deeper into the book. Just as he was getting into the discussion between the prostitute and the noblewoman about the relationship between class, gender and oppression, the bathroom door opened again and Midoya emerged in a cloud of perfumed steam.

"Take a bath?" she suggested.

"A bath?" Kuroro contemplated the merits of getting clean as opposed to figuring out where the prostitute was going with talks of financial stability and its relationship to the acceptance of repression. Eventually, the bath won simply because Kuroro realised he was starting to smell like something had died in his boots. "Alright," he said, dropping the book on the table. Absently, he sifted through the contents of his trousers, dropping the keys to the car, his phone and his wallet on the table.

Behind him, Midoya melted onto the bed, her bathrobe parting slightly as she did. "I'll be waiting for you," she purred, deliberately striking a sensual pose that was only half-joking.

"I'm looking forward to it," Kuroro replied with a faint smile and disappeared into the bathroom.

* * *

The Infinity Gem, Shalnark soon discovered, was harder to trace than he had expected. There was a lot of talk about it, sure, and it had pretty much become the stuff of legend ever since its disappearance almost two decades ago, and that was the problem. It was going to be difficult sifting the truth from the fiction. Eventually, Shalnark had given up on trying to trace its whereabouts specifically and started searching for any colour-change sapphires present in the market.

Yawning, Shalnark stretched and looked around the base camp. Ever since the second attack on the Ryodan, they had decided that for safety reasons, they should disperse themselves as far across Meteor City as possible. With Dancho gone, the ten of them had broken up into three groups and spread themselves across various districts. At the moment, Shalnark was in District Six with Franklin and Machi, trying to hunt down any traces of the Infinity Gem. As far as he could see, Franklin and Machi were away in their own corners, sorting through paperwork they had stolen from someone who had claimed to have owned the Infinity Gem before. Shalnark was, in turn, stuck on his laptop, hunting down any leads he could find.

"Any progress?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Dead end," Machi said irritably, dropping the pile of paper on a box. "The gem he had was not the Infinity Gem; it was just a normal sapphire. Pretty, yes, but not the actual thing. It wasn't even a colour-change sapphire, that bastard."

Shalnark shook his head wearily. "It's difficult," he complained, "not least because it was stolen so many years ago. To make things worse, it was stolen by a kid in Meteor City. That makes it practically untraceable. On the other hand, you would think something like the Infinity Gem would have made some sort of waves if it reappeared in auction houses or the black market."

"That's the curious thing about the Infinity Gem," Franklin said quietly. "What exactly gives it so much power?"

"Didn't Kito mention something about rituals and stuff?" Machi asked. "It must be some item that holds some kind of significance for some sort of mafia ritual."

"If that's the case," Franklin pointed out, "maybe it would only have 'made waves', so to speak, if it had reappeared in mafia circles. To the rest of the world, it would have been nothing more than a pretty stone, right?"

"Right," Shalnark said slowly. "Right, that makes sense." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "So far, I've been looking for any colour-change sapphires present in the markets in general. Perhaps, if we find out exactly what significance this stone has, we can rule out researching certain markets."

"Go for it," Machi said, rotating her shoulders. "We're too bloody short on leads."

"On it," Shalnark mumbled distractedly as he did what he should have done earlier: finding out the origins of the Infinity Gem. "Ah, got it," he said brightly as search items started to appear. "Whoo, you will not believe this. It seems the raw sapphire that became the Infinity Gem was harvested from Meteor City."

"Serious?" Machi peered over his shoulder. "Huh. Chemicals in Meteor City suspected to be the cause of the Infinity Gem's odd colouring. Interesting, but not really relevant. Anything else? Find something that relates it to the mafia."

"Yeah, hold on… Huh. Hey. Look at this."

Franklin and Machi stared at the search item Shalnark had clicked on. Immediately, the Nen around him grew tense with anxiety and Shalnark felt it when Machi started to bristle. "She didn't mention that," Machi said quietly.

"No, she didn't," Franklin said, his voice low with anger. "Read it."

Shalnark did, reading it out loud, his face paling the more he read.

"Oh fuck," Machi said, once he was done, her tone wretched, "oh fuck. We trusted her. We fucking _trusted_ her. If this article is to be believed, it means we might have put our trust in the wrong person."

"Not good," Franklin agreed. "We don't know for sure, but we can't trust her."

"And Dancho is alone with her." Shalnark muttered a curse under his breath as he fished for his phone. "Call the others," he instructed, "warn them not to trust her anymore. I'm contacting Dancho." He pressed the phone to his ear urgently. "Let's hope we're not too late," he muttered.

* * *

The phone came apart easily in her hands. Coolly, Midoya dumped the battery out and carefully took out of the memory card. The shower stopped for a moment, and Midoya's eyes flickered to the bathroom door, ready to hide the dismembered phone if need be. However, it started again soon enough and Midoya released the breath she was holding. Turning the memory card over in her hand, she pulled out a container containing what appeared to be a thin piece of clear tape. With firm fingers, she lay it down on the memory card, pressing it flat, before sliding the card back into the phone.

Mission accomplished, she quickly resembled the phone and put it back exactly where Kuroro had left it. Oddly enough, it was only then that her heart started to throb with nerves.

Soothing her face into a mask of calmness, Midoya sank back into the bed and closed her eyes. With that nifty piece of technology in Kuroro's phone, the Ryodan wouldn't be able to contact him. In fact, the only numbers he would be able to receive calls from would be hers and Kikita's. He wouldn't be able to contact the Ryodan using that phone either, and that might make him suspicious, but Midoya knew him well enough by now to know that he only contacted the Ryodan if he needed them to do something for him. With both her and Kikita around, the chances of that happening was fairly low. Between the two of them, they could provide most of the expertise of the Ryodan and some. If the circumstances did arise, Midoya would have to deflect him somehow. She would probably have to… think about it then. There was no use planning in too much detail when it came to Kuroro Lucifer; that man was as unpredictable as genetic mutations.

At that moment, the bathroom door opened and Kuroro stepped out, a towel wrapped around his waist. He smiled faintly at her before heading for his duffel bag to find some clothes and Midoya felt just the briefest pang of guilt. This was followed quickly by the quick tap-dance of excitement. What _would_ happen if he found out what she just did? Would he try to kill her? As sad as that thought was, it was also strangely exhilarating, so much so that she couldn't decide if she would truly regret it if he found out the true scope of her plans.

She was so caught up in her thoughts she didn't notice Kuroro sliding onto the bed next to her until his arms wrapped around her. "What are you thinking about?" he asked, face buried in her neck.

_That if you knew what I had done, you would try to rip my throat out this very second, and that I might actually like that._

Not the answer he would be expecting. From the way he was kissing her, she knew what answer he wanted. "I was just thinking of how cold this bed is," she said instead, keeping her voice low and sensual, "and how big and empty it is when I'm all by my lonesome self on it."

Kuroro chuckled and drew her closer. "It's been four months," he sighed. "For me at least," he added belatedly.

"I told you that was the case for me too," Midoya replied wryly.

He smiled at that. "So you noticed my possessive streak," he murmured.

"It's hard not to," Midoya replied softly, running her fingers through his damp hair. "It's a mile wide and growing. Anyone who knows anything about you can see it."

His smile widened and he kissed her behind her earlobe. "You don't know me half as well as you think you do," he said mildly as he kissed his way down towards her breasts.

Despite what she had done, Midoya found herself smiling anyway, a humourless smile which she hoped Kuroro wouldn't be able to see past. "I do know you Kuroro," she replied. "I do know you very well." Roughly, she kissed him so he wouldn't protest.

It was true and it was why she was so excited and so terrified about inciting his wrath. Residents of Meteor City were such merciless, unforgiving people after all, and Kuroro Lucifer, Dancho of the Genei Ryodan, was definitely no exception.

* * *

After the fifth try, Shalnark gave up and hung up his phone. "No luck," he said to the nine testy people staring at him. "I can't get through to Dancho's phone."

"What do we do now?" Shizuku asked, looking around with wide, child-like eyes. "Do we kill her?"

"We still don't know what her plan is," Nobunaga argued. "We don't even know she has a plan."

"Oh for fuck's sake," Phinx growled. "Of course she has a fucking plan. What do you think she is, a saint? This article clearly shows she has a personal interest in this whole affair."

Nobunaga bristled and started to reply but Shalnark held up a hand. "Not now," he said sternly. "Okay. We don't know if she plans to… well… hurt Dancho, but what we found suggests she does have her own agenda. Given that we haven't been able to contact Dancho, it suggests… a lot of bad things. Either way, it isn't safe leaving him with her. So here's what we're going to do." He looked around. "Half of us will continue to search for the Infinity Gem. The other half will go to Agocchi to look for Dancho. At the very least, we need to confront her and get her to tell us what she plans to do, and we need to let Dancho know she is hiding information from us."

"Seconded," Feitan agreed with his usual coolness.

"I agree," Machi said curtly. "She's dangerous and she has the edge over Dancho. We need to find them. Who's staying and who's going?"

"Right." Shalnark looked around uncomfortably. Usually, Dancho was the one who took charge when breaking the teams up, because Dancho had a unique perspective on who worked best with whom. In his absence, Shalnark will have to make do and hope it works out. "Kito has seen some of us fight before," he said slowly. "The same people have also seen her fight before to the fullness of her ability, and we know she's beyond dangerous. I think the team we send to Agocchi shouldn't only contain people whom she has seen fight before. That would give her an advantage over us." He looked around. "Okay, they are ten of us…"

"Get to the point," Franklin said quietly. "We'll take your lead."

Shalnark sighed. "Nobu, Phinx, Machi, Kalluto and Franklin," he said. "The five of you are on the Agocchi team. The rest of us will stay here and continue to search for the Infinity Gem." He looked at the Agocchi team carefully. "Kalluto, you helped us find the Jyonen-user. I hope you can use the same abilities to find Dancho and Kito. Franklin, you are team leader until you meet up with Dancho. I expect you to keep these animals in line. Nobu, Phinx and Machi, the three of you have seen Kito fight before, but given that two of you met up with her much later in the fight at the Fort, she hasn't seen as much of your abilities as she has of Dancho's and mine. The three of you are firepower in case Kito needs to be taken down. And Machi, if anyone gets hurt… well, you know what to do."

"Got it," Phinx said coolly. "Though I resent you thinking Franklin can control me."

"Not control," Shalnark said with another deep sigh. "He will receive instructions and information from me. So just listen to him, okay?"

"Fine, but only because we want to find Dancho," Phinx said stubbornly.

"Immature," Kalluto commented, and ignored Phinx with great dignity when he started yelling at him.

Feeling a tug on his arm, Shalnark glanced over and found Machi glaring at him. "Are you sure that's the best grouping?" she whispered. "Two out of five are total morons and one's a newbie. Besides, Kito has seen me fight before, for quite an extended period of time too. Don't get me wrong, I'm keener to be on the Aggochi team than the Gem team, but is it the right choice?"

"I don't know." Shalnark frowned. "But we don't have a better idea. Besides, you have a much cooler head than Phinx and Nobunaga. I'm relying on you."

Machi growled at that but let go of his arm. "Damn it," she muttered and turned on her heel.

Shalnark watched her go, commiserating with her feelings. He would have liked to go to where Dancho is now too, but they had their roles to play, given to them by Dancho. The best he could do was trust in the five people he had chosen to go after Dancho.

He eyed the five of them bicker and sighed.

Trust. That was going to be difficult.

* * *

A/N: I am extremely proud of the fact that I have a much longer chapter this week. Hope you enjoyed it as well!

Trivial: Shortly after meeting the gorgeous Mr Carmen, Aysha decided that it was no good staying at the hotel all the time if there were men like that outside just waiting for a nice middle-aged woman to sweep them off their feet. So, in an attempt to get a sexy turtle-lover of her own, that very night, Aysha decided to leave the hotel in the incapable hands of her brother, Samul, and go to one of those mythical clubs she always hears tourists talking about. After all, if that blonde moron could get a man that awesome, so could she.

Five minutes after she entered the first club she saw, Aysha found herself stumbling out again, clutching her face in horror. If the strobe lights that made her feel dizzy and nauseous weren't enough, the extremely drunk and mostly naked people doing _things_ on the floor genuinely shocked her. That was not to mention the vomit, the heat and the horrible odour of so many sweaty people squeezed into so tiny a space. And frankly, in her opinion, none of the drunk men passed out on the floor looked appetising in anyway whatsoever.

Disappointed that her first foray into the wild life of Agocchi had gone so badly, Aysha decided to forego the rest of her outing and return to the hotel before Samul burned the whole place down. It was just as well she did. Upon returning to the hotel, she found the bills in a mess, the keys to the rooms mixed up and the kitchen on fire. After sending an almost pathetically apologetic Samul off, Aysha had then rolled up her sleeve and gotten down to the tedious chore of putting out the fire.

Half-way through dousing the flames, Aysha had glanced up to find the beautiful Mr Carmen standing behind her. The eyes staring at her were black and disquietingly blank, reflecting nothing but the fires raging around them. He looked stunningly gorgeous and demonically sensual.

"Hello Mr Carmen," she had stammered.

"Hello Aysha," he had replied then turned and walked away.

And it was at that point that Aysha took the bucket of water on the ground and poured it over her head, because _that_ was too much excitement for a middle-aged spinster for one day.


	5. Of Brothels and Killers

A/N: This is the sequel to A Series of Politically Inappropriate Happenings. This story will be a little different from the previous two (which were quite different from the first installment of The Series). It was inspired by two things: first, a desire to try a slightly different genre other than Humour (a more serious one, one might say) and second, the criticism that Kuroro's relationship with Midoya is a little too perfect. So, this story took a while to come out.

Truthfully, I considered not publishing it because the more serious genres of Angst/Tragedy etc are not quite familiar to me and I'm not sure how my dear readers will take to it. However, I decided to just go for it, and hope I don't let you down.

Disclaimer:I do not own Hunter X Hunter and all the characters affiliated with the manga/anime. All OCs are mine and mine alone. The views stated by the characters do not always reflect the views of the author either.

* * *

Of Brothels and Killers

Just around the time Shalnark was thinking deep philosophical and anxiety-ridden thoughts about 'trust', Kuroro, Kikita and Midoya were busy discussing far more practical logistical issues about killing people. After all, it was one thing to have gotten the invite that they were looking for. It was another to crash the party without arousing any form of suspicion. To make things far more difficult, there were presented with a set of rules that were beyond their control.

"A guest plus one," Kikita read out-loud as she waved the invite around carelessly. "That means only two of us will be going."

"Exactly," Midoya replied softly. "The third person will have to find another way in."

"Assuming we don't find something else for the third person to do," Kuroro added. "Midoya, you're the most familiar with these events. What do you suggest?"

"Good question," Midoya replied and she brought her drink to her lips almost absently, her lips seeking out the straw even as her eyes unfocused with thought. Knowing that she wouldn't answer until she had sorted out her thoughts properly, Kuroro took the chance to look around the pretty café they were sitting in. Initially, they had intended to find Kikita at her house to discuss their plans for the ball. Unfortunately, John Smith had been present as well, having taken leave from work so he could take his wife's guests on a tour around Agocchi. Since they didn't really have time to take a tour around Agocchi, Kikita had lied and told John Smith that she had reservations for three at a masquerade café. It helped explain their disguises, which John Smith had openly stared at when they turned up at the house.

"_I'm a 1950s housewife,"_ Midoya, who was still wearing the wig, had explained.

"_I'm going as… a Poacher Hunter,"_ Kikita, who was dressed in her own clothes, had explained lamely.

"_I am… a man who like turtles,"_ Kuroro, still wearing the blue shirt, had explained lamely, and failed.

Fortunately, instead of some masquerade café, which would have been, undoubtedly, filled with strange people in disguises doing explicitly sexual things to each other, Kikita had led them to an airy café with plenty of natural light, mint tea and excellent spiced biscuits. The tables were also spaced far apart and all the seats faced the entrance of the café. In Kuroro's studied opinion, the few people occupying the seats looked nothing like outstanding lawful citizens of Agocchi either. If anything, he guessed that they were a mixture of Mafioso and Hunters.

"This café is neutral ground," Kikita, who had noticed his surreptitious glances, told him. "In here, anyone who starts a fight will be fucked up his ass for the rest of his life, no matter if they are Hunter, mafia or normal civilian."

"A delightful image," Kuroro replied wryly. "Midoya?" She glanced at him, her lips still wrapped around her straw. "So what do you think?" he repeated.

"Kuroro, you are definitely going," Midoya said finally. "It will be too unusual for two women to turn up together. The Mafia is still a largely heterosexual, patriarchal, capitalistic structure, and so we will stand out less if we go as a heterosexual couple."

"Ah, the System, which I am sure you normally do your best to undermine," Kuroro guessed with, he was sure, great accuracy. His Midoya was not one to let some silly bigots keep her down.

"You should see the videos of her on the Net," Kikita chuckled. "You wouldn't believe the kind of shit she can come up with."

"I'm sure it will be educational," Kuroro replied and made a point to look them up as soon as he could.

"Between Kikita and I," Midoya continued, ignoring their banter, "I obviously have more insider knowledge of how these events work, but there is a chance I might be recognised even in disguise. Kikita, on the other hand, does subterfuge the same way the Ryodan does mercy, kindness and love, so there's a pretty decent chance she'll blow it worse than I ever will."

"Hey! That is not true! I can do subterfuge as well as you can!"

"Oh? Remember the Republic of Edinth and the seduction of the prime minster?" Midoya smiled sweetly.

"That was… that was…" Kikita spluttered, looking more flustered than Kuroro had ever seen her. "It's not my fault the prime minster was a fucking asshole and… and…"

"It's better if I go," Midoya concluded, casually sipping her drink. "At least I know how to blend in."

Kikita's mouth opened to complain, but a surprisingly contemplative look spread over her face and she shut her mouth. "You're right," she agreed reluctantly. "But that doesn't mean I'm not going to bitch-slap you for that comment."

"Save for it later, children," Kuroro said patiently though he wasn't truly annoyed. This was almost like being with the Ryodan. It felt like home.

"You really shouldn't call me a child given what we do together at night," Midoya said to him, smiling.

"It's fucking accurate though," Kikita grumbled. "What was it Netero liked to call you? A genius Blacklist Hunter with the self-control of a baby?"

"She's only kidding, she adores me," Midoya quipped, biting daintily into a biscuit.

"Only sometimes," Kikita replied grumpily. "And only when you share good stuff with me."

Ah, just like the Ryodan. How pleasant this conversation was.

"Anyway, what we have left to do," Midoya continued, smiling faintly, "is collect information."

"Armando Basilio," Kuroro agreed. "I want to see his purported army of One Star Hunters. Not only will we have to fight them if we attack Basilio, they are probably the ones who have been briefed on what Basilio intends to do with this ball of his. If the Infinity Gem really is in Basilio's hands by now, they would know it."

"Good thinking," Midoya murmured. "Kikita, since this is your turf, what do you suggest?"

"Well," Kikita said, sniffing with disapproval, "since you're talking about a bunch of animal-slaughtering, misogynistic mercenaries at the beck and call of a similarly foul boss who isn't present at the moment, but who will be back in two days' time, we're talking about a group that's gonna wanna go wild before they have to go back to duty twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. There is really only one place they could be."

"Ah," Midoya said knowingly.

"And where would that be?" Kuroro asked, feeling quite ignorant of the ways of animal-slaughtering misogynistic mercenaries.

"Where else?" Kikita asked wryly. "A brothel, of course."

* * *

It said something, Kuroro mused, that he was a man aged nearer-to-thirty-than-twenty and he had never stepped into a brothel before. Worse (or better, some would argue), he had never even thought about doing so before. Perhaps it was because he had come from Meteor City, and was aware how many desperate women ended up in brothels just to escape the slow death of poverty. Perhaps he didn't appreciate the fake smiles and bad acting so many of these abused women had. Or perhaps, like all Genei Ryodan members, he disliked actually having to use money to buy things (a real libido-killer that one).

Still, it _was _weird for him in particular, given how his partner was the owner of fifty-something brothels in York Shin City. One would imagine he would have at least visited her at her work place _once_. It was probably a testament to Midoya's phenomenal ability to compartmentalise her life that he hadn't ever met her on friendly terms when she was June Kito.

"Don't you think?" Kuroro mused to Kikita who was driving him to the brothel Armando Basilio's One Star Hunters were presumably infesting. Midoya had not gone along on the basis that she might be recognised and that a single male would have a better chance infiltrating a brothel.

"You're asking me if I think it's weird that you haven't visited a brothel belonging to your powerful, scary, dangerous girlfriend, and enjoyed the services there that are, quite significantly,_ not from her_?" Kikita demanded incredulously as they stopped at a traffic light.

"Well, when you put it that way…" Kuroro shrugged. "I wasn't always with Midoya, you know? Besides, I've only recently discovered that we do not have a unanimous view on the degree of fidelity we should hold for each other. I'm still unsure if I want to give in to my possessiveness and kill any man who has touched Midoya or whether I prefer not to risk Midoya's wrath and just let things be. I may just seek her permission to exterminate all her lovers, just the current ones I mean, since I am given to understand that she has taken care of her past lovers herself. In that case, I can soothe my possessiveness without incurring her wrath. Quite the ideal plan, I feel."

Kikita openly gawked at him. "You are as fucked up as Kito," she said, shaking her head. "No wonder the two of you get along so well."

"She also gets along with my Ryodan," Kuroro told her, feeling almost embarrassingly proud of the fact that his Ryodan, never known for their ability to socialise, could actually get along with somebody from relatively normal society. "She taught Feitan, my resident torturer, some new techniques recently, though I must say, he hasn't quite gotten them right yet. And she tried to introduce a friend to Shalnark, my resident no-longer-a-virgin. It would have been an ideal match too, if it didn't turn out that Midoya's friend has no idea what online gaming is. Shalnark has high standards when it comes to finding a life partner."

"Uh huh," Kikita snorted knowingly. "Those nerds are all the same." The traffic light turned green and she started the car again.

"Yes," Kuroro agreed. "Your brother, Pepeka, and Shalnark are online gaming friends. They play together sometimes. If either of them were gay, it would have been the perfect partnership. Unfortunately, as we all know, Pepeka is madly in love with Midoya and Shalnark is quite heterosexual, as far as I know at least, so that's not going to work out."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kikita open her mouth to comment then close it again. "I didn't know Pepeka hung out with the Ryodan," she said finally, and there was a tone in her voice that told Kuroro she wasn't terribly happy to hear about it.

"He doesn't," Kuroro said soothingly. "They only meet online to play games."

"Hell, I didn't know Pepeka would enjoy hanging out with the Ryodan at all," Kikita went on, as if he hadn't spoken. "He's quite… sensitive."

"Oh, I think the time Midoya almost got killed by the Association cured him of that," Kuroro said brightly. "I believe some of my men gave Pepeka a very valuable lesson on revenge and funeral arrangements." To his surprise, Kikita greeted his good tidings with a steady look that told him how much she wanted to hit him on the head but wouldn't because they were on a mission and she was a fucking professional.

"That's nice," she said calmly and Kuroro felt his confusion deepen.

Rather than risk annoying her any further, Kuroro decided to change the subject and asked, "Do you know how many hunters are in Basilio's mercenary army?"

"Ten," Kikita told him. "But there's only one Hunter you need to worry about."

"Oh?" Kuroro questioned, and conveniently didn't mention that he hadn't actually been worrying about the Hunters at all. He just liked knowing about his enemy's forces in advance. Was it not Confucius who said 'Know thy enemy, know thyself, and you shall win every war you fight'?

"He goes by the name Decimal," Kikita told him. "And he's probably powerful enough to be a Two Star Hunter. The main reason he isn't is because all the things he does are evil and immoral and all the shit the Association generally frowns upon."

"Ah." Kuroro paused as a memory resurfaced in his mind. "Decimal… you are referring to the Decimal killer who killed fifty-seven prostitutes world-wide before he was arrested, during which he escaped by slaughtering the entire squad of Blacklist Hunters who had arrested him?"

"Exactly," Kikita said cheerfully.

"That doesn't sound too bad," Kuroro mused. In his expert opinion, if you can actually count how many people you've killed, you're just not quite there yet.

"Oh really?" Kikita gave him a smirk. "One of the prostitutes he killed belonged to Midoya. She has been hunting him for five years and hasn't managed to kill him yet."

"Oh." Kuroro rubbed his chin. Well, so much for his expert opinion. "That… changes things. He is a cause for concern."

"Yup, and he's now _your_ cause for concern!" Kikita beamed. "We're here."

Kuroro glanced out at the window, taking note of how Agocchi's cheery, well-lit streets have turned into flashing neon signs and scantily-dressed women trying to decide by the look of his clothes how much money he had on him. "How… nice," he said, for lack of anything else to say. It has been a while since anyone had tried to put a monetary value to him like that, and he wasn't sure he liked it.

"Glad you like it. Now get the fuck out before my non-whore presence draws any attention."

Since that was excellent advice, Kuroro climbed out of the car, barely managing to close the door before Kikita sped off in a puff of exhaust fumes. Immediately, he felt pairs of heavily made-up eyes focus on him. To his heightened, alert senses, they felt like laser beams on his skin. It was enough to make the bandit in him feel uncomfortable. So, taking a note from Midoya, he held his head high and strode for the brothel, inappropriately named 'Pussy Party' (he had no idea what cats had to do with prostitution). Somewhere in the depths of his mind, he hoped Midoya's brothels had more class than this and that their names at least made sense. What ever happened to honest advertising? Not that he had the right to preach about 'honesty' given his occupation.

"Hey handsome," a too bright voice said. "You like this?" Hands with painted nails lifted a top that was more lace than cloth to reveal a naked, distinctly female torso.

"Yes, your breasts are very nice," Kuroro replied politely, since he knew that it was always best to compliment a woman when she asks about her appearances. "Please excuse me." He made to move around her, but the torso turned to follow him.

"Uh… wait a minute. You…" The lacy top descended over the torso, covering the breasts Kuroro had just complimented. "Wait a minute. Come on… sir…?"

Surprised at being hailed like that, Kuroro looked more closely at the speaker and found himself looking at a young woman. He supposed she could be considered pretty, with large hazel eyes and full red lips, but she was pretty the way dolls were pretty: pleasant on the eyes but soulless. Her bright smile did not reach her eyes, which were blank and empty like a corpse's. (It occurred to him that others had said the same thing about his smile before, and he idly wondered if he should be concerned that he apparently smiled like a whore.) "Yes?" he asked finally, since the young woman didn't seem inclined to continue her sentence.

"You looking for a good time?" she asked, tilting her body to show off the kind of curves that told Kuroro she was probably barely of legal age. "I can give you a real good time."

"Actually," Kuroro told her, "I am looking to go into Pussy Party. So if you will excuse me…"

"Oh, I work at Pussy Party," the young woman said with desperate eagerness. "I'm Pretty Kitty. I'll show you a real good time."

Kuroro opened his mouth to reject her then closed it again. It would look weird if he walked into a brothel without a woman with him. "Alright," he said finally, inwardly cringing when he realised he had just bought a prostitute (Midoya was going to laugh herself senseless at him). "Let's go in."

"You not gonna ask my rates?" Pretty Kitty asked incredulously.

Taking the hint, Kuroro obediently asked, "What are your rates?"

"Depends on what you want, handsome, and for how long," Pretty Kitty said, fluttering her false eyelashes at him. It looked like something she had done so often it had become habit.

What did he want? That was a good question. Kuroro had no idea what kind of sexual favours people normally asked from prostitutes. Did everyone just ask for plain, simple sex? Was it considered impolite to request certain positions or types of sexual acts? Was it even necessary to come up with such an elaborate lie when he was probably not going to end up in bed with this woman anyway? It might blow his cover if his lie wasn't good enough. "Uh. I'm not sure what I want yet," he said slowly, deciding to play the indecisive rookie. "But I would like your company for an hour."

"That's five hundred dollars," Pretty Kitty said with a straight face.

Well, that was surprisingly expensive. He had no idea sex was worth that much money. "Alright," he said with a shrug. It wasn't like he couldn't afford it anyway.

The young woman stared at him. "Really?" she asked uncertainly, suddenly sounding a lot younger than she had previously. "Well. Great!" she exclaimed, brightening up. "Come on, daddy. You'll love what I do for you."

"I'm certain, as long as you don't call me 'daddy', please. Fatherhood, whether in reality or role-play, has never appealed to me," Kuroro said wryly. "Now, if we can go inside…?"

"Sure, da… honey," Pretty Kitty said, eager to please now that she had snagged him. "Come on in!"

Grabbing his arm, she all but dragged him in. The moment they stepped inside, dimly-lit darkness closed in around them. Kuroro stood still, blinking as he tried to get used to the change in lighting. Ever since that incident with the chain-user, he had become somewhat wary of dark places. It was fortunate he had fairly decent night vision, even if it always took a couple of seconds for him to get used to changes in lighting. Eventually, his eyes adjusted and he made out a sleazy-looking bar, a large open space on the floor where a crowd of young, female bodies were twined together sensually, and a group of men sitting in a corner watching the show and Kuroro, who had just walked in.

The moment the eyes fixed on him, he felt himself being evaluated based on physical strength and Nen. Eyes went to his pockets, his belt and under his arms, areas where a weapon would normally be kept. It took everything in Kuroro to keep his Nen looking as raw and untrained as possible under the combined gazes of the men.

Well, well, well. It seemed he had found his Hunters.

"Rooms are upstairs," Pretty Kitty was saying in his ear, her hands rubbing him in areas normally only Midoya would ever touch. Midoya or Hisoka, that is, though only the former had his permission to do so.

"I want a drink first," Kuroro told her, resisting the urge to rub at his ear. Her breath was ticklish and he had a feeling she had smeared lipstick on his ear.

"That counts to your hour."

"I expect it would," Kuroro said dryly and patted her hand gently in an attempt to look like a sleazy frequent visitor of brothels. "Shall we go to the bar?" Deliberately ignoring the hunters, Kuroro walked up to said bar and sat down.

"What ya want, boss?" the bartender, an obese, sweaty man grounded out with a solicitous smile on his face.

Kuroro stared at the array of identical bottles behind the man and thought that was quite a dumb question. "Beer," he said, since that was the only thing being sold here. He dropped some money on the counter as the man gave him a bottle of beer that was, thank goodness, cold and mostly clean. Taking a sip of the beer, he glanced around at the Hunters, while pretending to be watching the show on the floor. In the dim light, he could only get a brief glimpse of them. No matter, he could do this all night, stealing swift glances at them, slowly extracting details from his quick observations, until he had a full picture of the men present.

"Not to rush you or anything," Pretty Kitty said, flopping down next to him, "but your time is running out."

"No matter," Kuroro answered honestly. "I sometimes prefer conversation to sex."

From the look on Pretty Kitty's face, that was a line she had never heard before. "Whoa," she said bluntly, "are you like impotent or something?" Realising what she had just said, she added lamely, "Erm. No matter if you are. We got pills for that here. They'll cost you though."

"I'm fine, thank you," Kuroro told her. Casually, he glanced over his shoulder again. This time he got a clearer look at the Hunters. They seemed to be mostly burly, thug-like men, all with their arms slung around mostly-naked women. Turning back, he took a calm sip of his beer and tried to decide if using _Gyo_ to look at them would be too obvious in this place. It might be worth the try. Due to the nature of this place, the energy level in this room was abnormally high, and a spike in his Nen might not be noticeable.

"So, where you from?" Pretty Kitty asked, starting to sound bored. "You're not from Agocchi, are you? You don't sound right."

"York Shin," Kuroro lied, since he was pretty good at imitating Midoya's accent. Besides, York Shin, being a large city, had a large enough migrant population for him to pass off as a new arrival if his accent was off.

"Ooh," Pretty Kitty cooed, looking more interested. "Are you like rich or something? I heard everyone in York Shin is rich."

"Perhaps," Kuroro replied, knowing she would take that as a positive response. "Where are you from, Pretty Kitty?"

Wariness now filled the face. Ironically, the apprehension added enough life to her face to make her look genuinely pretty. "Why you asking that?" she demanded, and he saw her reach into her purse and grip what must be a weapon of some sort.

"Just curious." Kuroro turned on the bar stool to face her thus giving him a direct view of the Hunters. "Did I offend you?" he smiled at her for the first time, the same charming smile that had gotten Neon Nostrad to trust him.

"No," Pretty Kitty said, apparently mollified given by how she let go of the item in her purse. "No one's ever asked before, is all." A pause. "I'm Agocchi born and bred, but not from the nice parts," she muttered, avoiding his eyes. "Born from dirt and all that shit. Not that you would know about that. Your jeans maybe cost as much as my trailer, even with all its holes and stuff."

If Pretty Kitty had been a normal girl, Kuroro would have gone for a sympathetic pat on the shoulder just to gain her trust. In this place, that would only look weird. So he gave her what she expected: a careless shrug. "If your trailer costs two hundred dollars then yes," he said calmly. Did distressed jeans cost that much? He really had no idea. It had never occurred to him to ask Midoya since he hadn't anticipated being quizzed on the price of his jeans.

She smiled at that, her mask snapping into place, but not before Kuroro saw the flash of rage in her eyes. Taking that as a break in the conversation, Kuroro glanced at the Hunters again. This time, his eyes singled out one person who stood out. He was a tall man with broad shoulders and a lean waist. His hair was brown and wavy, and ruffled in a way that made him look rakish and boyish at the same time. His eyes were a deep brown, and his face looked young and lively. He was also, Kuroro noted with some surprise, the only man at the table without a woman sitting on his lap.

The Nen around the man though, was dense, smooth and obviously very powerful, much more so than anyone else at the table. If Kikita was right, Kuroro would say he had found Decimal.

Casually, he turned back to his beer and took a longer drink, trying to decide how to play this.

"What you looking at?" Pretty Kitty asked curiously, turning around to glance behind her, and Kuroro contemplated knocking her out before she blew his cover. Her passing out would have only drawn more attention though, so Kuroro let her look and hoped her glance wouldn't alert the hunters.

"The ladies on the floor," Kuroro lied easily, his mind still focused on planning.

"I'm prettier than the ladies on the floor," Pretty Kitty snorted.

"But of course," Kuroro agreed, which wasn't exactly a lie; he couldn't see the women on the floor clearly enough to judge if any of them were prettier than Pretty Kitty.

Pretty Kitty smiled an almost-genuine smile at that. "You ready to go up yet?" she asked, running a finger down his arm.

"I'm not done with my beer," Kuroro pointed out mildly.

"You can drink upstairs." Pretty Kitty sniffed. "I got to work, you know? If not, the boss will think I'm scamming you. You know I'm not scamming you, right?"

"I do," Kuroro told her soothingly. "Just five minutes more." He was about to look up at the Hunters again when he felt a presence at his back: dense, smooth and powerful.

"Hi," a friendly male voice said. "Are you new here?"

Slowly, deliberately taking his time, Kuroro glanced up at the man standing behind him. It was the same man Kuroro had singled out from the crowd of Hunters. "Yes, I am," he said with distant politeness. "Hi."

A hand was offered, strong and covered with callouses. "I'm Decker," the man said, smiling.

A fake name? If so, it was incredibly rude. Well, two can play the game. "Cain," Kuroro replied, taking the hand. Ah, that was some Nen. Just touching it made Kuroro feel like he was trying to grip a hand made of solid rock. Still smiling, Kuroro forced his Nen to not react to the man's Nen. "Have a seat."

"Why, thank you." The man sat down on the bar stool next to Kuroro and leaned against the counter, still smiling. "I hope you don't mind if I steal you from your date."

"Not at all," Kuroro said, wondering what was going on. Had the man noticed him observing them? Was his cover blown?

"I saw you looking at me," the man said bluntly.

Ah, that answered his question. "Is that so?" Kuroro asked, still being polite. "What is that to you?"

The man's smile widened and he slowly looked Kuroro up and down before looking up to meet Kuroro's eyes. Then he wetted his lips with an innocently suggestive flick of his tongue.

Oh. That explained… a lot.

"Was I wrong?" the man asked whimsically, dimpling as he smiled. "Was I imagining your eyes on me? Were you not undressing me in your mind? Were you not thinking of me taking you in my mouth and sucking you off?"

Next to him, Pretty Kitty rolled her eyes. Ignoring her, Kuroro eyed the man in front of him as he considered his options. He could deny it; could deny that he had been watching the man, take Pretty Kitty upstairs and disappear out of a window. Or… he could string this man along, win his trust, perhaps gain some information… and take care of the problem that was the Decimal Killer now.

Meeting the brown eyes watching him, Kuroro smiled faintly and replied, "You wouldn't be wrong to think that."

"Figures," Pretty Kitty sighed.

The man grinned. He had one of those contagious, whiter-than-white smiles that looked like it belonged on an advert. "Let's find another place," he said, getting to his feet, "somewhere with better beer and quieter rooms."

That suited Kuroro just fine, so he got to his feet as well. As he did, a hand gripped his sleeve and pulled hard. "You still got to pay me," Pretty Kitty protested. "You have to, or the boss's gonna whip me."

"Of course." It was easier parting with money when he thought of it as charity, so Kuroro passed the money to her with a few kind words on how best to endure torture and followed the man out of the brothel and into the cool night air outside. Then he paused, perhaps because he really wanted to get his money's worth, and walked back to Pretty Kitty who stared up at him.

"Just one more thing," Kuroro said, smiling charmingly at her.

"Yeah?" she demanded, all rudeness now that she had gotten the money.

"A question." Tilting his head curiously, Kuroro asked, "Just what do cats have to do with brothels anyway?"

* * *

The night breeze was cool as it flowed in through the window. Taking in a deep breath of air that smelt like incoming rain and city life, Midoya leaned back against the head of the bed, glass of red wine in one hand and fluffy bathrobe wrapped comfortably around her body. The television was switched on, the volume set low, but Midoya hardly glanced at it. There wasn't much on anyway. Some news about celebrities she didn't care about having babies she cared even less about. There had been a brief news flash about the 'Missing Heiress June Kito', and she had watched that idly for a while. Soon that lost its appeal though. She knew exactly what it would say, because she had written the script herself, so to speak. The only thing she got out of it was that as far as the general public was concerned, she was still mysteriously missing, some foul play was suspected though there was no evidence, and no one really gave a damn. All according to plan.

Sighing softly, Midoya closed her eyes and sipped her red wine. At this moment, Kuroro would be out roaming the night-life of Agocchi, finding out all there was to know about the wicked henchmen of Armando Basilio. Given a chance, she wouldn't have minded accompanying him on that mission, but the excuse she had given held true. If she went along, there was a chance her cover would be blown. That would be bad in all sorts of ways. Besides, Kuroro was extremely intelligent, extremely patient and extremely good at explaining things to people. She had no doubt that he would be fully capable of letting her know if there was anything she needed to take note of.

Besides, even if she could have gone with him with some sort of assurance that she wouldn't be recognised, she wouldn't have anyway. She had a date with someone else, someone who was five minutes late and climbing in through the window.

There was a rustle of clothing against the window frame and a quiet little flare of Nen. The breeze now carried the scent of blood, masculine musk and roses.

"Hello, my dear Midoya-chan," a dangerous, sensual voice purred.

Opening her eyes, Midoya smiled at the man standing on the window frame, feeling the slight buzz of alcohol and hoping she wasn't as drunk as she thought she was. It really wouldn't be a good idea to face this man inebriated. So few people in the world were as dangerous as him. Not even she would claim to be as dangerous as him.

Holding out a hand, she allowed him to bend over it and kiss it with a flourish.

"It's good to see you again," she replied, looking straight into feral eyes, "Hisoka."

* * *

His shirt was on the floor and his bare back was pressed against a wall. A strong arm was wrapped around him, pinning him to the wall. Hot breath ghosted over his skin as lips and teeth tugged at his skin. His jeans were unbuttoned and a rough, male hand was down his pants.

All in a day of the life of the Dancho of the Genei Ryodan.

Staring at the blank, somewhat cracked wall of the modest motel they had ended up in, Kuroro leaned his head against the wall and wondered exactly how he was going to get any information out of this man other than the fact that the man found him 'fucking hot' (as he kept muttering). He supposed it was meant to be complimentary, but he couldn't help cringing every time Decker said that. It just made him feel self-conscious about his body when people wouldn't stop talking about it. One thing he liked about Midoya was that she never felt the need to gush about how good looking he was. In fact, when in bed, the conversation was almost always geared towards turning him on rather than making him notice the shape of his cheekbones or the strength in his limbs or whatever it is people find attractive about him.

Teeth dug into his skin, hard enough to make him jerk in the powerful embrace. Belatedly, Kuroro realised he was supposed to show some appreciation for the attention he was being given, so he gave a perfunctory moan. If things continued as they were, he was going to get nothing out of this encounter but sex with an admittedly rather attractive man who, unfortunately, suffered from inane verbal diarrhoea during intimate moments. Not a pleasant image. He should have tried to initiate some form of conversation beforehand, but this man who claimed he was named 'Decker' hadn't really given him a chance to do so. Apparently, getting to know each other wasn't a pre-requisite to violent sex in a roadside motel.

Well, it was never too late to start. He still had to figure out if this _was_ the Decimal Killer.

"Where are you from, Decker?" Kuroro asked as the man sucked his neck hard enough to bruise. He wondered if Midoya would mind, and decided that she wouldn't, so he put that thought out of his mind.

"Can't talk," Decker panted and kissed him hard. Ouch. Was it really necessary to be so rough? "Touch me."

Ah. In theory, Kuroro had some knowledge of how sex between men was supposed to work but he had no practical knowledge in that area. Well, he supposed something quite innocuous would do. Since the man hadn't specified where Kuroro should touch him, Kuroro settled for rubbing his sides in what he hoped was a somewhat sensual way. "You sound like you travel a lot," he noted idly. "Your accent is quite a mix."

"Yeah. Travel a lot," Decker mumbled, biting him hard.

"Business?" Kuroro asked, trying to strike that balance between casualness and flirtatiousness. He had never flirted with a man before; he wondered if it worked the same way with women. Did men like being told they have beautiful breasts too?

"Yeah. Business."

Kuroro frowned. How much of this was truth and how much of it was the man simply patronising him? It was hard to tell. "What sort of business?" he asked.

"Oh shut the fuck up, will you? I'm trying to fuck you here." the man growled and bit him again, drawing blood this time. Oh darn. He hoped this man didn't have some sort of infectious, inconvenient disease that would give Midoya every reason to laugh herself sick at his expense. Kuroro almost sighed wearily at that image before he realised a normal person, unused to the pain of battle, would react more to a wound like that, so he gasped and shied away from the teeth digging into his skin.

Decker eyes snapped up to his and they widened until his brown irises were surrounded by white. The look on the man's face was familiar to Kuroro; he had seen it often enough on Feitan's face or Hisoka's face. It was the look of a person who enjoyed inflicting pain on others, who got off making others scream.

Even though he knew what to expect, Kuroro still winced when the man bit him even harder, drawing more blood. "Hey," Kuroro protested, doing what he felt was a pretty decent imitation of Pepeka whining. "That hurts."

"If you don't want it to hurt then shut the fuck up," Decker growled, but his face was alight with malicious delight and arousal.

Right. This wasn't working. As the man went back to leaving ugly bruises on his skin, Kuroro stared at a water stain on the ceiling thoughtfully. Well, since the good-old interrogation tactic wasn't working, it was time to change tactics.

Closing his eyes, Kuroro leaned his head back and moaned softly. Against all his instincts, he bared his already sore throat even more to this dangerous man with an obvious violent streak. Sensually, he rolled his hips against the man's hand and moaned again. The reaction was almost immediate: the kisses got even more painful, the pants and groans got louder, and the hand in his pants got rougher. Ouch. Sensitive bits and violence really do not go hand-in-hand with each other, especially during sex.

Still, Kuroro had achieved his purpose. As Decker growled distractedly against his skin, Kuroro leaned over, pressing his lips against the man's ears and whispered, "Don't stop, Decimal. Don't stop."

"Oh _fuck_," the rough, male voice groaned with pleasure. Then the man's entire body snapped to a halt, large brown eyes fixed on Kuroro's face. "What did you call me?" he asked, stunned.

Instead of answering, Kuroro took the opportunity to leap away from the man, darting to the other end of the room so the man's hands were no longer wrapped around a very delicate part of his anatomy. Nonchalantly, Kuroro buttoned up his jeans again, never letting his eyes leave the shocked man staring at him (it would be awkward if his jeans dropped during a fight). "You are Decimal, aren't you?" he asked. "The Decimal Killer. One Star Hunter in the employment of Armando Basilio."

Brown eyes narrowed with a rage that was filled with equal degrees of lust. "How did you know that?" he snarled. "Who are you?" Ah, how nice of him to admit so readily.

"Just a man out looking for some fun and perhaps hoping to find some answers," Kuroro replied with a cold smile.

"Like what?" Nen was flooding the man's body now, lighting up like bursts of fireworks in the tiny motel room.

"Like about the pretty little stone Armando Basilio intends to showcase at his upcoming ball." Decimal had a good poker face. If Kuroro hadn't been looking out for it, he wouldn't have seen the twitch in the man's face.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Decimal said, but the Nen starting to gather in his hands vibrated and hummed with nerves.

Kuroro smiled and took another gamble. "The Infinity Gem," he said deliberately and saw the man twitch again.

Confirmation received, Kuroro allowed his smile to widen slightly in victory. "So Armando Basilio _is_ hosting the ball to announce his possession of the Infinity Gem," Kuroro said, pleased. "That is excellent news. It would be nice to see the gem that has gotten these mafia bosses desperate enough to want to murder us."

"Murder… us?" Realisation flashed through Decimal's face and the remains of whatever lust he had felt vanished entirely to be replaced by fear. "Genei Ryodan," he hissed accusingly.

"Correct." It was always a relief to be able to shed a charade and be himself again. Given that his natural expression was a blank look, his facial muscles got so much more rest when he was just being himself. "Now there is only one other thing I need from you," Kuroro said softly and Decimal tensed up even more. The shadows in the room started to move oddly, flowing, separating and merging like pools of black oil. Kuroro watched them even as he pretended to ignore them. "What do you think I want?" he asked, casually materialising his book. "What do you think I need from you, Decimal?"

"I'm hoping you're going to say a hand job, but I doubt that's the case," Decimal said coldly as shadows started to climb up his legs.

"Unfortunately, you are quite right." The Nen Fish sprang to life around him just as the shadows covered Decimal entirely. "My source tells me you are the most powerful of Basilio's mercenary army," Kuroro said as the carnivorous fish swooped around him. "Let's fight. Fighting you should tell me what I should expect from the rest of your men."

By now, Decimal was nothing but a human-shaped shadow, hovering in front of Kuroro like a wraith. A white circle appeared in the shadowy figure before him and spread into a thin crescent of a smile. "You think you can defeat me?" Decimal whispered, his voice hollow and eerie. "You think you can survive this, Spider?"

Interesting question. Kuroro smiled coldly in reply and slid into a fighting stance. There was only one way to find out…

* * *

A/N: Yay for another chapter! Just a few things I wanted to say here. Firstly, as one very smart reviewer noted, 'Agocchi' _is_ an anagram for 'Chicago'. The name of the city was inspired by York Shin (which translates directly to York New, if we take 'Shin' as Japanese for 'New' i.e. New York). Since I have never been to Chicago before, I decided to just use the name but reinvent the city based on the vibe I wanted it to have. Sorry to all the people from Chicago and kudos to the reviewer who took note of it!

Secondly, I have to admit that Kuroro is slightly OC in this story (and will be even more so in the sequel). The reason for this is that I detected (or perhaps, imagined) a slight hint of naivety or child-likeness in the 'Kuroro' from the manga, and I thought amplifying that would make for some decent comedy. So, yes, Kuroro will come across as somewhat oblivious to certain social cues and norms in my stories (or at least this story and the next); you have been warned! Sorry yet again to all the readers who prefer Kuroro's original personality! I probably should have said this in the beginning of the story, but I hope it's not too late! I hope you can accept this slight reinvention of my portrayal of Kuroro just for the sake of comedy. In subsequent stories, my portrayal of him will probably change again, though I will definitely keep the core characteristics of cold rationality and merciless practicality quite constant.

Thirdly, it is unlikely Pepeka will appear in the main body of this story, but he will appear in the sequel! For those of you who miss him, here's a gift for you in the trivial!

Trivial: Though this was the first time Kuroro had willingly stepped into a brothel, he still considered himself a man of the world, well-versed in the dark side of society. Perhaps he wasn't as experienced as someone like Midoya, but surely he was by no means as naïve and ignorant as someone like Pepeka Timbal, for example.

Given his rather low opinion of Pepeka, Kuroro would have been shocked to know that Pepeka, though closer to twenty than thirty, had visited a brothel before.

That fateful day, Pepeka had been on his way to meet Midoya. Since he was late, he had taken a shortcut through the sleazier parts of York Shin. As he was plodding along, keeping his head down and thinking of sensei, a woman had stepped directly into his path and hailed him loudly.

"Hey handsome," she had said in greeting, "I have a problem here. Wanna help me with it?"

Startled out of his thoughts, Pepeka had looked up to see a pretty, rather scantily-dressed woman, standing before him and cupping her breasts in her hands. Since chivalry was not just a personality trait but a reflex for him, Pepeka had immediately said, "Sure. What is your problem?" From the way the woman was standing, with her hips and chest jutted out at odd angles, Pepeka thought she might have sprained her back from a fall. It wouldn't be a surprise with the height of the heels she was wearing.

"The problem's right here, baby," the woman had purred, bouncing her breasts.

Then she had probably been hit in the chest, Pepeka concluded. "What do you need me to help you do?" he asked seriously, wondering if he should bring her to the hospital. The nearest one was a good half hour away, and he wasn't sure if she could take the travelling even if she didn't appear to be in any pain. It was always dangerous to move people who have hurt their backs.

The woman had smiled with him and beckoned him over with a crook of her finger. "Go in here, baby, and you'll find out," she purred, pointing to a dilapidated building.

Obediently, Pepeka had trailed into the building after her, wondering if she needed help carrying something.

Five minutes later, Pepeka had exited the same way he had come. Only this time, he was running as fast as his could, his face a brilliant red with sweat pouring down it. He didn't stop running until he had reached his destination, five miles away, where Midoya, having heard his story, laughed so hard she couldn't speak for almost an hour.

Till this date, Pepeka had never ventured back into that part of town ever again.


	6. Countdown: Ten Hours

A/N: This is the sequel to A Series of Politically Inappropriate Happenings. This story will be a little different from the previous two (which were quite different from the first installment of The Series). It was inspired by two things: first, a desire to try a slightly different genre other than Humour (a more serious one, one might say) and second, the criticism that Kuroro's relationship with Midoya is a little too perfect. So, this story took a while to come out.

Disclaimer:I do not own Hunter X Hunter and all the characters affiliated with the manga/anime. All OCs are mine and mine alone. The views stated by the characters do not always reflect the views of the author either. All characters and settings in this story are fictional, either from the manga/anime HunterXHunter or are of my own invention.

* * *

Countdown: Ten Hours

By the time Kuroro left the motel, it was late enough to be considered early. Stopping at the entrance of the motel, he looked around nonchalantly, but there didn't seem to be anyone watching the motel. That was good; the fight with Decimal had been tough but quiet. If Kuroro was lucky, no one would think much about Decimal's disappearance until sometime after daybreak or whenever it is Basilio wanted his men to gather at his mansion. With that thought in mind, he had even cleaned up after the fight as best he could. It wouldn't fool a trained crime scene investigator, but a casual passer-by wouldn't be able to spot the tell-tale signs of a fight.

As he glanced once more around the front of the motel, he spotted Decimal's car, sitting in the parking lot next to three other cars. If he was going to delay the discovery of Decimal's fate, he would have to get rid of the car as well. With that in mind, he started to walk over to the car, keeping his face down like a man who had just had an illicit but decidedly non-lethal affair in a motel. Thinking guilty thoughts helped.

Reaching the car, Kuroro pulled open the front door and started to slide into the driver's seat. The distinctive odour of blood and death stopped him.

Pausing, Kuroro closed his eyes and inhaled sharply through his nose. There. There was that scent again. He had smelt it earlier when he was in the car, but hadn't thought much of it. The car belonged to a mercenary working for the mafia; it wouldn't be difficult to imagine violent and fatal things have happened to people in this car before. But, the smell had gotten much stronger in the span of a few hours. That meant it wasn't caused by old blood. That meant…

Kuroro rounded the car, popped the trunk open and looked in. Pretty Kitty's sightless eyes looked back.

The trunk was a mess, with blood, bones and innards spilling everywhere. Her body was mostly intact but showed signs of having been tortured. Kuroro wondered when Decimal had found the time to do this. It wouldn't have been too difficult, he thought; the mutilation was done with little finesse. A child with a good blade could have done this much damage in under ten minutes. That was, if the child was raised in Meteor City. Kuroro had found that children outside Meteor City tended to be extremely lacking in the knowledge of how to properly inflict pain on others. Some of them actually used verbal _taunting_ instead of a good blade. Such standards were surely to be frowned upon.

Still, this was an inconvenience. He needed the car to remain undiscovered for a while, and it would be difficult to do that with a rotting corpse in the trunk. The smell would eventually alert someone and the police would be called in. He would have to get rid of the body separately. If they weren't in an open space, he could have used Nen Fish but…

A strong hand, tough with callouses clamped on his shoulder and Kuroro jerked with shock and disbelief. What on earth…! It really shouldn't be that easy to sneak up on him, especially not when he had his guard up.

"That's a mess," a familiar voice noted.

Kuroro glanced at the person holding his shoulder and relaxed marginally. "Kikita," he said coolly, "what a pleasant surprise." Not that it was. She had hidden her presence and approached him. Anyone in this business would recognise that as a deliberate threat.

The powerful hand lifted off his shoulder and Kikita nodded at him. "Not a surprise," she said with a shrug. "I used the GPS on your phone to find you."

"Oh." Kuroro wasn't aware that could be done. Once this was over, he should probably get Shalnark to do something about it.

Looking easily over his shoulder, Kikita tilted her head and regarded the contents of the trunk with uncharacteristic expressionlessness. "What are you doing?" she asked.

Kuroro did not reply immediately because he was too busy returning his mind to the problem at hand. "I need to hide the car," he told her finally, "and the body."

"Okay." Kikita nodded. "Who is that?" she asked.

"A prostitute," Kuroro told her, frowning as he tried to figure out if it was possible to remove the entire body from the trunk, get it into an enclosed area and feed it to the Nen Fish. It was possible, but what was he to do about all the blood in the trunk? It would require some industrial-strength detergent to get rid of. Undoubtedly someone like Decimal would have a cleaning team at hand to deal with it, just as Kuroro had Shizuku. Unfortunately, Shizuku was all the way in Meteor City.

"I see." Abruptly, hot, burning Nen engulfed him. Startled, Kuroro leapt away immediately, flipping head over heels once before landing a distance away from the figure practically exploding with Nen.

"Kikita?" Kuroro questioned warily as smoke rose from his clothes where her Nen had singed him. "What is the meaning of this?"

The car park was poorly lit, so Kuroro could hardly see Kikita's face, but her voice, when she spoke, was low and dangerous. "Did you do this?" she asked. "Did you kill her?"

Kuroro stared. "No," he replied emphatically. Then because he couldn't control his curiosity, he asked, "Does it actually bother you if I did?"

"Of course," Kikita replied coldly, short blonde hair ruffling in the night breeze. "And I don't believe you. I saw you enter that brothel with this girl. Kind of weird the one girl who picks you up gets killed, huh, Dancho?"

"Don't call me that." Kuroro eyed her thoughtfully. "Are you really Midoya's friend?" he asked disapprovingly. "I doubt Midoya would mind the occasional murder of innocents, especially if there were a good reason for it."

"No, but I'm not Midoya," Kikita said, and though Kuroro still couldn't see her face, he could feel the surge in her Nen. "And I do mind that you killed an innocent girl."

"I didn't kill her," Kuroro replied, starting to feel frustrated. There were things that needed to be done before daybreak, and this woman was delaying him with her childish moral concerns. Why were all the Timbal siblings this irrational? What had gone wrong in their upbringing? Or was it genetic? Could stupidity be passed on in the genes? "Kikita, we don't have time for this."

"I think we do," Kikita countered, and Kuroro watched her slide into a combat position. "Come on, Kuroro, fight back or I'm going to fucking kill you on the spot." That was a line straight out of Pepeka's mouth, but spoken with confidence, strength and _factuality_. That was the key difference between this woman and her younger brother, Kuroro realised as he whipped out his book for the second time that night, a key difference that made her infinitely more powerful and dangerous than her inexperienced younger brother: the ability to keep a clear head, even in an emotionally elevated state.

"You are making a mistake," Kuroro told her coldly, one last attempt to get her to see reason. "We have a common goal, remember? The death of Armando Basilio? Does that ring any bells?"

"Midoya and I can do that on our own."

"Do you think Midoya will continue to work with you if you kill me?"

Kikita must have grinned because her perfect white teeth gleamed in the dark. "I've outlived all her other boyfriends," she said. "I'm pretty certain she will get over your death soon enough."

Before she was done speaking, Kuroro materialised Fun Fun Cloth and flung it at her, hoping to take her by surprise and capture her without killing her. Unlike Kikita, he had every reason to believe Midoya would be downright furious with him if he killed her friend and Pepeka's sister, no matter how valid his reason was.

At first, he thought it might work as the Cloth started to close in around Kikita. But at the very last moment, she hit it away – with her bare fist.

Kuroro's eyebrows disappeared into his bandanna as Kikita smirked and shook her fist in a mock display of pain. "Is that all?" she asked, the question swimming in sarcasm. "I kind of expected more from the Dancho of the Genei Ryodan."

Ah. That went straight to that streak of competitiveness in him. Well, well, well, a challenge presented itself: how to defeat Kikita Timbal and prove to her he was as strong as rumour goes, all without incurring Midoya's wrath? The answer came with surprising ease.

Steal her Nen.

Without her Nen, Kikita would be unable to fight him and would have to acknowledge that he was pretty darn smart to steal her Nen during battle. He wouldn't have to kill her either, and if Midoya insisted, he could always return her Nen to her. It was perfect. The only problem was actually stealing her Nen, but this wouldn't be fun if it wasn't difficult now, would it?

Cheered up by the prospect of a challenge, Kuroro waved his book away and drew his Benz knife. Shifting his weight to the balls of his feet, he sprang forward, slashing out quickly at his opponent. Kikita moved at the same time, dodging below his knife and hitting him square in the gut. Kuroro took the blow and rolled with it, leaping back to his feet as fast as he could, coughing. That was a… potent blow. Kikita hadn't been pulling the punches at all. Even though he had defended with _Kou_, he had still sustained a degree of damage.

Wiping pink-tinged spit off his lip, Kuroro examined Kikita's glowing form thoughtfully. Though it is not always the case, Nen types are often passed down from parent to child. For example, Illumi Zoldyck, Kuroro knew, was Manipulation type just like his mother (he had been very pleased that he had managed to get Illumi to slip up on that piece of information before he realised what he was saying). So, though from what he had seen of Kikita, her style of fighting and the sheer amount of Nen she had, he would have guessed she was Reinforcement, it was not out of the question that she was Materialization, like her brother. Pepeka, after all, had excellent talent in the field of Reinforcement, as his own sensei had told him, and it could be the same with Kikita.

Well, there was no point in thinking about it; he might as well just ask. Sometimes, he did get lucky and his opponent was dumb enough to reply. From what he had seen of the Timbal family, intelligence didn't seem to feature prominently in their genetic profile. "That was a good punch. Reinforcement?" he asked as they circled each other.

"Maybe," Kikita replied and Kuroro smiled faintly. Well, there went his amateurish attempt at genetic profiling. "Aren't you going to attack me?" Kikita asked as she edged closer. "If you aren't, I'm going to attack you."

That might potentially fulfil the second criteria, so Kuroro shrugged and said, "Be my guest." In a split second, he found himself jumping over a powerful roundabout fist.

Before he could land, Kikita kicked at him and he was forced to block the attack. Even as he fell, he attempted to slash at her with the Benz knife, but she dodged it before slamming a powerful fist into his temple.

Cursing inwardly, Kuroro landed and immediately leapt out of her range. Still in a crouch, he shook his head, trying to clear the flashes of light floating before his eyes. That had _hurt_. If he was any judge, Kikita was at least as physically strong as Phinx. That leant more credence to the theory that she was Reinforcement type. If she was, it would be dumb for him to engage her in physical combat. He was a skilled fighter, but Reinforcement types were notoriously good at close combat.

Taking a deep breath, he whipped out his book again, fingers expertly searching out the page he was looking for. This was a skill he hadn't tried in battle before and he risked bumbling around like an idiot before he got control of it, but he was willing to take the chance. No time like the present and all that. Besides, he had been very eager to try it out for a couple of months now.

"_Phantasie Dom_," Kuroro read off the book. Immediately, a large dome of energy fell over the both of them, illuminating the area within the dome with a brilliant white light. Kikita, now thrown into bright relief, froze on the spot, eyes darting around as she assessed the new threat. In the glare of the dome, Kuroro saw that Kikita was armed. A utility belt slung around her hips hosted a whole series of weapons hung: brass knuckles, dagger, and even an honest-to-god axe.

It seemed the obsession with the medieval ran in the family, but while Pepeka had fancied himself a knight in shining armour, Kikita obviously thought of herself more as a Viking than a noble lady.

She saw when he noticed her weapons and scowled at him fiercely. Wordlessly, she ripped the brass knuckles off her belt and slid them over her left hand. Her right hand gripped the axe and she pulled it out of the holster, giving it an experimental swing. The moment both weapons touched her hands, Nen flooded into them, turning them into deadly weapons that could smash through his defences if she wanted them to. Even if he defended fully with Nen, he had no doubt she was perfectly capable of breaking every bone in his body with those weapons.

Criteria two fulfilled? Perhaps. Kuroro smiled at her. He just needed to get her to explain her powers now. That was always the hardest part about his powers. "Viking?" he questioned.

"None of your fucking business," Kikita replied, a fierce grin on her face. "Come on. Show me what you got."

Ah. A tough one. No matter. Even if he didn't manage to steal her skill, he would still get to test out this particular skill. Kuroro felt his heart flutter slightly in anticipation. Time to see how useful it was. "Phantasy born," he said softly, speaking the key word to active the power. At the same time, Kikita lunged forward, bringing the axe down on him in a burst of furious strength and brutal speed.

Only he was not there. Or rather he was there, but no longer 'Kuroro Lucifer'. Kuroro regarded the Mary Janes on his feet and struggled not to smile.

"What the fuck!" Kikita growled as she leapt back. Obviously getting over her shock, she raised her weapon again. "Nice illusion, Kuroro," she said, eyes narrowed. "Did you think I wouldn't attack you just because you look like Midoya now?"

His hands, small, pudgy and soft, but powerful, patted down the flowery dress he was wearing. Too bad these powers only allowed him to transform into one person as he had last saw him or her. At least he wasn't wearing a wig. "No," Kuroro said gleefully, "I turned into Midoya because of this." Anticipation almost made him shiver with pleasure. "Ying," he said softly and immediately turned into a white mist.

Well, well, well. So this is what it is like to become a cloud of poisonous, acidic gas. It was an odd sensation. Though Kuroro could feel that he was suspended several feet above the ground, he felt like himself, like a human in a human-shaped body. However, when he moved his arms, all he saw were puffs of white mist floating about in the general direction of his movements. Against his better instincts, Kuroro spent some time waving his arms around aimlessly just so he could watch the puffs of white mist flowing about. Oh, it was fun.

Something silver glinted and Kuroro blinked in surprise as he felt something pass painlessly through his body. Abruptly, he became aware that Kikita had just thrown a slim throwing knife through him. Though it had felt exactly like how a knife through his stomach should feel, it hadn't hurt and he certainly wasn't bleeding. If anything, the only damage done was to the throwing knife, now a puddle of melted metal alloy on the ground.

"Oh fucking fuck _fuck_," Kikita cursed. "It's not just an illusion, is it?"

Kuroro grinned, though she couldn't see it because of the form he was in. No, it wasn't just an illusion. _Phantasie Dom_ was one of the most fascinating skills he had come across in a while. It allowed the user to transform into any one person, take on their form and all their Nen-abilities. There was a long series of strict requirements to meet before doing so of course. Firstly, the transformation can only take place if the user was within the Dome created by the key word 'Phantasy'. Secondly, the user can only transform into someone whom he had met before, and whose abilities he has seen before. Thirdly, the Dome will fade in fifteen minutes, as will the transformation since it had to take place within the Dome. Fourthly, the user is granted access only to the Nen-abilities of the person he or she is transforming into, and not their memories, personalities or other non-Nen related abilities. Fifthly, the user can only transform into one person per summoning of the Dome. If the user wished to transform into another person, the Dome had to be dissolved and reformed. It was a very complicated power, and not one that was particularly practical in many senses, but Kuroro had wanted it the moment he saw it for one reason and one reason only - to have access, if only temporarily, to Midoya's fascinating powers.

And why not? He already knew her Ying form was an excellent weapon against Reinforcement types like Ubogin.

Still smiling with pleasure, Kuroro pounced forward, jumping straight for Kikita. To his surprise, instead of jumping a few feet high like he had planned, he ended up soaring to the top of the Dome. Right. So he wasn't supposed to use too much strength when moving. Now how on earth does he stop in mid-air?

Pretending he was swimming (the one sport he was really not good at), Kuroro waved his arms about. Miraculously, it worked, and his ascend stopped just before he exited the Dome. If he had a human form, Kuroro mused, he would look utterly ridiculous, waving and kicking around like that. However, since he was not in his human, Kuroro waved and kicked shamelessly until he was swooping for Kikita, just as he had seen Midoya do to her opponents before.

Before he could reach her, Kikita dropped and rolled under him, and Kuroro found himself backpedalling hard to stop himself from zooming out of the Dome. Managing a rather nifty swirl, Kuroro did a somersault in mid-air and turned to face Kikita again.

Her eyes were narrowed as she watched him. Kuroro saw it when realisation hit her. It seemed she had figured out he needed to stay in the Dome to use his powers. He had to get her before she found a way to trick him into leaving the…

A powerful foot stomped onto the ground, shaking the earth and rooting Kuroro to his spot. Her eyes fixed on him, glowing with a red energy full of hatred and rage, and her teeth bared in a fierce snarl. She stomped the ground again then pounded her chest with her fists still wrapped around her weapons. The blows thudded against her flesh violently, hard enough to bruise. Then she tossed back her head and screamed, a wild, primal sound that humans, pampered, civilised humans, had forgotten through the centuries. Something in Kuroro's soul screamed back in challenge and he shivered.

Almost like she had heard his soul's response, she screamed again, spittle flying from her mouth as she smashed the ground with her fist. Nen exploded from her, filling the entire Dome with her presence and flooding her limbs. Her muscles started to bulge, straining at the tight muscle tee she was wearing. Her eyes, now twin pools of red light met his, and she howled and pounded forward, axe raised to _smite_ him.

Though she was almost on him, Kuroro remained still, watching her with genuine interest. This was the first time Kuroro had ever met a true-blue berserker and it was a truly astounding sight. At that moment, Kikita Timbal looked nothing like a mere Poacher Hunter. She had become a vision of long-forgotten primeval goddesses, the wild goddesses of war and fertility that had ruled civilisations for centuries. The untamed goddesses of the hunt that civilisation had chosen to forget, to imagine didn't exist, to reform in the image of passivity, submission and motherhood. But the memory was always there, hidden in their souls, and only brought to the surface in times like this. Facing down this fearsome image of the past, Kuroro found himself struck dumb by the seductive call of the hunt howling through the night air.

So caught in his thoughts was he that Kuroro barely managed to react when Kikita's axe smashed into the earth in front of him. A tiny crater cracked into the ground and the backlash from her blow carried Kuroro across the entire Dome. Struggling, Kuroro managed to right himself, just in time to see Kikita reappear before him, screaming in rage as she pounded the ground with her axe again. This time, the resulting gust of wind took Kuroro all the way up to the top of the Dome.

Well. This wasn't working. Any moment now, Kikita would successfully force him out of the Dome and this particular skill will shut down on its own. It was time to switch tactics. "Yang," Kuroro said – and nothing happened. Huh. It seemed he had to change to the human form before changing to a different form. He had long suspected that was a requirement in Midoya's powers, but it was nice to have confirmation. As far as he knew, turning back to human form did not require a key word, so Kuroro simply imagined being human again.

The pull of gravity felt unnaturally heavy as he landed on his feet, but Kuroro didn't stop to complain. He blindly leapt away, just in time to avoid the heavy blow that would have cleaved his head in half. Jumping back nimbly, he managed to gasp, "Yang", just as Kikita reached him again, screaming with rage as she swung her axe at him.

Coldness seeped through his veins, and the next thing he knew, he was a gleaming statue of silver. Just as with Midoya's other form, this form did not feel any different from his human form. However, the moment he started to move, he felt the strength coursing through him. Midoya had once said she had little talent in the Reinforcement field. She had lied. This form _amplified_ Reinforcement skills, elevating his physical power and filling him with vitality. It was exhilarating, feeling so much power coursing through his veins.

Dropping to a crouch, Kuroro pivoted around, dodging Kikita's blow and spinning around to face her in one smooth motion. With a sharp twist of his body, Kuroro swung a kick at her that got her right in the ribs. Kikita screamed in pain, but didn't falter. Instead, a powerful hand clamped around Kuroro's cold, metal wrist, holding him in place as another powerful hand raised the axe above her head.

Metal clang against metal.

Kuroro blinked at the silver blade between Kikita's axe and his raised arm. As if in a dream, his eyes followed the blade to a blonde-haired woman standing next to them and glaring at them with unnaturally blue eyes.

"What on earth are the two of you doing?" the blonde-haired woman asked severely.

Kuroro blinked again, this time in recognition. Immediately, he reverted back to his 'human Midoya' form so he could speak to her. "Midoya," he acknowledged. Then because he noticed that she was upset, he added sweetly, "My dear."

"I have questions regarding… _this_, Kuroro," Midoya said sternly, "but for now, stand down. You too, Kikita. Don't act like a child; it is extremely unflattering on you."

Kuroro didn't think anything could have caused a berserker to stand down while in that mode, but Kikita did, moving away from Kuroro and putting her weapons back into her belt. Kuroro followed suit, dissolving the Dome so he returned back to his normal form.

"Hey, Midoya," Kikita said, sounding only just the slightest bit sheepish. "What's up?"

"What's up?" Midoya demanded, crossing her arms and giving the both of them a look of utter disapproval. "Why are you fighting in front of a sleazy roadside motel with my lover? As a matter of fact, what are the two of you doing at a sleazy roadside motel so late at night? And why do you have so many hickeys along your throat, Kuroro? I sense a long and troubling story behind this, and I am not sure I will be happy to hear it. At least tell me now if it will result in me doing something terrible to the both of you."

That was more scolding from her than Kuroro had received in all the years they had been together. Midoya wasn't the type to scold or nag after all, so if she did, it meant she was genuinely angry with them. "I apologise, Midoya," Kuroro said, smiling charmingly, "do forgive me. There were… circumstances."

"Like what?" Midoya demanded, demonstrating a regrettable immunity to his charm.

"Like a dead prostitute in Kuroro's car," Kikita pointed out with an accusing glare at Kuroro, and explained to Midoya what had happened. Since her explanation didn't cover the events that happened while she wasn't around and thus didn't explain the hickeys on his throat, Kuroro too gave his version of what had happened after she was done.

By the time he was done, Midoya had stopped frowning and was beginning to smile. "You seduced and killed Decimal? Well done, Kuroro. I wish I had been around to see that."

"Yes, and _he_ was the one who killed the prostitute, not me," Kuroro emphasised, giving Kikita a pointed look. She gave him a nasty grin in return and a very rude gesture. Perhaps stupidity did not run in the genes, but a distinct lack of manners evidently did.

"Oh, don't worry about it," Midoya said, waving a dismissive hand. "Kikita wasn't serious about her accusations. She was only testing you in that fight. If she had been serious, you would be injured a lot more severely than you are at the moment."

"Really?" Kuroro arched an eyebrow at the taller woman.

"Absolutely," Kikita replied, smiling just a little too smugly and Kuroro was determined to stand straight and walk with his head held high despite the horrible pounding in his head.

"Whatever the case may be, I still have a dead body and a car to get rid of," Kuroro pointed out. He looked around at the two women looking back at him. "Any ideas?" he asked hopefully.

* * *

After some discussion, during which the highly criminal minds of Kuroro and Midoya were put to the test, they decided that it was safe to simply leave the corpse with the car. After all, as Midoya put it, "Everyone knows Decimal has a thing for killing prostitutes. It wouldn't be too huge a surprise if they find a dead one in his car. In fact, one can almost assume, if one came across a car like this, that Decimal deliberately ditched it in order to hide the body. No?"

It wasn't the perfect plan, but it would have to do. It wasn't like they had to buy themselves plenty of time. The ball was in ten hours or so, thus the car had to remain undiscovered only for that period of time.

"Do you think we can just park it somewhere in town?" Kikita asked. "How bad can a corpse smell in just ten hours?"

"Very bad," Kuroro and Midoya replied at the same time.

"Right," Kikita muttered. "How on earth do you know that?"

"I live in Meteor City."

"I once kept my dear ex-boyfriend's corpse in the basement of my mansion for a week because I missed him. I probably should have considered the consequences of killing him, but I caught him having sex with one of my maids who had an unfortunate case of a particularly nasty sexually-transmitted disease. I was lucky not to acquire it as well."

"Ah, I see now why you always insist I wear a condom. It is hardly surprising after the trauma of an unfaithful boyfriend with a penchant for having sex with infected partners."

"Oh god, too much information." Kikita gave them a glare that made Midoya smile. "But back on topic: we can't leave the car in town. Where then?"

"It's your town," Kuroro replied with a shrug. "I'm sure you know the best places to hide a corpse."

"We are not all criminals, you know?"

"Yes, but you do have a place in mind."

Kikita shot him a glare and wordlessly climbed into the driver's seat. "See you guys back at your hotel later," she growled, as friendly as a rudely-awakened bear, and drove off.

"Charming, that Kikita," Kuroro commented wryly. "I hope she doesn't pull a stunt like this during the actual mission."

Midoya laughed. "Don't worry, dear, she's a professional. She's probably just curious about you."

"Why would she be curious about me?" Kuroro asked, bemused.

"Have you not noticed?" Midoya smiled cheekily at him. "You have that whole mysterious, other-worldly thing going on; like your name. A fallen angel." She tilted her head and regarded him, the same gesture Kikita had done earlier. "Kuroro, why do you think Lucifer fell?" she asked.

"I personally think he didn't fall. I think he jumped," Kuroro replied easily, since that was a topic he had put much thought to before, "because he did not want to live by anybody's rules but his own. It is a sentiment I can understand."

"And to do so, you would betray anyone, even the closest person to you?" Midoya asked. Surprised by her seriousness, Kuroro glanced at her, but her face held no judgement, only curiosity.

"Will I betray the closest person to me? It's hard to say now, isn't it?" Kuroro mused. "Betrayal is such a… fluid concept after all and the consequences of it are hard to predict. Arguably, without Hell, Heaven could not exist. Why would anyone strive for Heaven if there is no Hell? In other words, Lucifer's betrayal was necessary for Heaven to exist. Even if he had turned against his Maker, his betrayal ultimately worked in the favour of Heaven, no?"

"I see," Midoya murmured, with a faint, enigmatic smile. "Well then," she continued, smiling more widely, "we should get out of the cold and do some damage control."

"Damage control? Ah, you mean the motel." Kuroro turned and regarded the building thoughtfully. "With how loud Kikita and I were being, it wouldn't be surprising if we attracted some bystander's attention. That would not be good for us; though I was in disguise, Kikita wasn't."

"Yes, my thoughts exactly."

"And how do you propose to remedy that?"

In response, Midoya held up a lighter and a container of petrol she must have liberated from Decimal's car. "Tell me Kuroro," she said, smiling evilly, "how do you feel about arson?"

* * *

It was just as well that Kuroro had no particular qualms about burning buildings, what with being responsible for more than a few in his time. Of course, usually, those burning buildings were more an unintended consequence of an attack on some random auction by the Genei Ryodan. Hence he found it rather educational to watch Midoya actually deliberately set fire to a building.

"Is it necessary to douse the corpses with so much fuel?" he asked curiously.

"Oh yes, definitely. It takes a lot of fire to reduce a body to ashes," Midoya confirmed, and Kuroro bowed to her superior knowledge.

After waiting for a few minutes to make sure the building was burning nicely, they returned to the hotel where Midoya dropped onto the bed and indicated she was going to sleep. Since it was an excellent idea to get some rest before a mission, Kuroro lay down next to her with the intention of following her example.

"Why does the bed smell like roses?" Kuroro wondered as he fluffed up his pillow.

Midoya mumbled something inaudible and turned her back to him. Kuroro took that as an indication that she was too tired to talk, so he simply closed his eyes and went to sleep.

When he next woke up, Midoya was curled up next to him, a cookie in one hand as she typed furiously on her laptop. It was remarkable how fast she could type with one hand. That was a skill Kuroro had never acquired.

"What are you doing?" Kuroro asked, turning over so he could rest his chin on her shoulder as he looked at the screen.

"Giving you a new identity," Midoya replied, offering him the remains of her cookie. "The ball is a mafia thing and only big-shot Mafioso should be able to enter it. We need to make you a rich and powerful mafia thug in order to pull it off."

"Ah. So which mafia thug am I?" Kuroro stared as a picture of him in a suit sprang onto the screen. Since he didn't own a suit like that, he had to assume Midoya had just done something remarkably technological to make his picture look like that.

"Enrico Federico," Midoya replied. "First cousin to the CEO of Federico Enterprise."

"Federico?" Kuroro mused as he chewed on the cookie. "Even I have heard of it. That must mean they are a big family in York Shin. If they are well-known then my identity, or lack of, will be easily verifiable."

"Exactly." Midoya beamed at him. "That is why I have hacked into the Federico Enterprise website company list and inserted your alias under a minor department in the website. But…"

"But?"

"But it is not enough." Midoya shrugged. "These _Mafioso_ are more likely to trust one of their own than a website. It's a rather clannish mentality."

"Ah, I see. Working with you is an education, Midoya. I learn so much about the intricacies of mafia life, which I would never have if I always do what I usually do; kill them and take their treasures." Kuroro regarded her ear thoughtfully, it being the only part of her anatomy he could see from the position he was in. "What do you propose we do then?"

"Well," Midoya said as she grabbed her purse and started to rummage through it. "The Federico family is close with a number of other Mafia families in York Shin. If anyone at Basilio's wants to verify your identity, there are a few people he will definitely have to call. We have to get to these people before he does."

"And what will you do to make these people vouch for me?" Kuroro asked curiously.

"Bribe, threaten or seduce them, most likely," Midoya said absently as she abandoned her purse for her luggage, extracting her shoulder from under his chin and leaving Kuroro to flop gracelessly back onto the bed. "Ah! Found it." Smiling, she pulled her phone out of her luggage triumphantly.

"Excellent. So who are you going to bribe, threaten or seduce?"

"Well, one is the Mayor of York Shin's son. The Mayor has very strong connections with the Federico company, and one of his ah… economic ventures with the Federico empire was fronted by his son," she told him. "We're fairly close friends, dear James and I."

Kuroro stared at her. "You are _friends_ with a politician?" he asked in the same tone of voice he used when he once asked her if she was _really going to buy that country inhabited by cannibals_ (it was a long story).

Midoya laughed. "He's not a politician, Kuroro, he plays rugby, not golf." She winked. "Words with more than two syllables in them are too complicated for him and he still thinks one plus one is eleven. But he is good company if I'm looking for brainless conversation or connections that would allow me to expand my economic empire with little increase in taxes."

"Ah." Kuroro smiled faintly. "He must be very fond of you if he helps you like that."

"Yes, I am very good at nodding at the right moments and saying something complimentary about his knowledge of the difference between rainy weather and sunny weather." At Kuroro's look, she added dramatically, "One has rain, one _doesn't_."

"Such invigorating and stimulating conversation. I see why you are such good friends," Kuroro said dryly.

"Indeed. Dear James will be very easy to persuade. But it's not enough; we need one more person to vouch for you."

"Who do you have in mind?"

"Well," Midoya said thoughtfully, "given that you are illegally impersonating someone from the Federico family, there's really only one person we can turn to."

"And that is?"

"Who else?" Midoya smiled sweetly. "The head of the Federico family of course."

* * *

Eugenio Federico, for the last five years, had been the head of the Federico family and CEO of the Federico Company. This followed the strange and bizarre accident that had fatally befell his predecessor, where his father had somehow accidentally gotten caught in a shooting war between two clans entirely unrelated to the Federico family, got shot point-blank twice in the head, somehow fell into a canvas bag weighted down by bowling balls and then got picked up by a freak tornado that flung his body into the York Shin river. The grieving Eugenio Federico had thus been forced to take up the task of holding the Federico family and company together. This was especially since his elder brother, the much-beloved Eric Federico had, in an insane grief upon hearing about the death of their father, committed suicide by mutilating his face, chopping off his own arms and legs, and hanging himself from the ceiling of one of the cells in the Federico dungeons. Amazingly, no one stood up to protest a minor's takeover of the family business. It must be because they had a great deal of trust and faith in him.

Still, at fifteen, that made Eugenio Federico one of the youngest (and thus most vulnerable) heads in the first tier Mafioso circles. Hence, there had been a need to cultivate as many friends and allies as possible not just within the Mafioso circles but outside as well, and as most heads will tell their heirs, there was no better ally to have than the infamous June Kito. With that in mind, Federico had set out to bring Kito over to his side.

To his surprise, it had proven incredibly difficult to gain her trust or even a personal meeting with her. Bribes and threats were used as he deemed fit, all manners of strings were pulled, but to no avail. Even turning up uninvited at her mansion had proven a failure. He had never even caught a glimpse of her, much less spoken to her. Hell, he wasn't even aware if she knew of his existence. That had irked him to no end, and he had decided, in a fit of teenage angst, to get rid of her. He had subsequently tried to drop a piano on a car that, as rumours goes, she was occupying.

That night, he had gotten a call that had somehow bypassed his secretary and gone straight to his private line.

"Hello?" he had mumbled sleepily into the phone.

"_Look in the garden,"_ a smooth, female voice had said.

If he had been a little more awake, he might have been alarmed. Disorientated from sleep as he was, he had lumbered to the window and peered out. The sight of his favourite Porsche, sitting in the fountain with a piano on it had jolted him awake. "What the fuck?" he demanded.

"_Think of it as a little payback for killing my butler,"_ the female voice had said contemptuously. _"Look in the trunk to find your personal secretary and your gardener, or at least the pieces of them. Being squashed by a piano is a messy death."_

"Oh my god, you are June Kito," Federico had gasped, so shocked he had been unable to keep the awe out of his voice. "I've been dying to meet you for ages."

"_Well, you have successfully gotten my attention,"_ she had said, sounding strangely amused. _"How does it make you feel now, little Federico?"_

Eugenio Federico stared at the mess in his garden. "Scared," he admitted, surprising himself with his own honesty, "and kind of horny too. Uh… I know I'm not supposed to know what that means, but whatever man. I know how to use the Net." She had started to laugh into the phone and he had found himself grinning in response. "I don't suppose I can meet you, can I?" he asked hopefully.

"_Little Federico,"_ she had said, her voice gaining a warmth that made her sound, quite bizarrely, like a totally different person, _"I am surprisingly taken by you, but it will take more than dropping a piano on my butler to meet me. Once you do, you would be playing out of your league, and in this league, there is no safe-word."_

Something flickered in his eyes and Federico blinked, flinching away from the sudden glare in his eyes. The glare disappeared abruptly and he opened his eyes, only to realise there was a tiny pinpoint of a red dot fixed on his chest. His jaw dropped as he stared blankly at the spot on his chest. "Uh…" he had said dumbly.

"_You are young, little Federico, and you still have much to learn. Think of this as a lesson to you from a veteran."_

"Uh… what lesson?"

"_That's for you to figure out. Goodbye." _

The call went off line, the little red dot had snapped off and Federico had found himself oddly disappointed. He almost wished she would continue threatening his life just so he could continue having a conversation with her. It had been a long time since anyone had challenged him openly like that after all. Besides, she had a really nice voice, not exactly melodious but confident and articulate. Still, he comforted himself as he climbed back into bed, all was not lost. There was still the prospect of finally gaining Kito's trust and respect through his own strength!

Five years later, Eugenio Federico still hadn't gained a single iota of success. Sure, he had finally heard her voice, and once, had managed to catch a glimpse of her at some stupid ball, but he had never had a chance to get closer to her. Thus, the moment he picked up the phone and heard her voice on the line, he had gotten up from his seat, ignoring the entire Board of Directors staring at him in shock, and walked straight out of the meeting room.

"How did you get this number? Are you really June Kito?" he demanded, once he was back in his private office.

She laughed that distinctive laugh he remembered so well. _"Little Federico, I should be the one asking you that question. Your voice sounds quite different from the last time I heard it. I believe it was the day I dropped a piano on your Porsche."_

"Puberty came and went," Eugenio Federico told her with an unexpected surge of pride. "I've actually got hair on my chest now. I have to trim it every other day." He shivered suddenly when he realised what her comment implied: he had never told anyone about the time she called him; she was the real June Kito. "Holy shit, it really is you," he breathed.

"_Of course it is me. Why do you always sound so shocked when I call you?" _

"Because you never do. I've been trying to meet up with you and you always avoid…" Eugenio's voice trailed off as another thought occurred to him. "Why are you calling me?" he asked, more curious than alarmed.

"_What a sudden change in conversation. Must we come to the crux of the matter so quickly? No time for a little chit-chat? Well, no matter. Little Federico, I need a favour from you." _

A favour? Oh god, an angel had just popped the mother-load on his lap. And fuck, that was a really gay image. His brain obviously turned homosexual when he was excited. Eugenio's ears pricked up immediately as he started to calculate the hundred different ways he could make use of this. "What sort of favour?" he asked casually, trying to hide how fast his heart was pounding.

"_A very small one,"_ June Kito said, and from the tone of her voice, he knew she wasn't fooled. _"It wouldn't take much of your time, but I will be very grateful for any assistance you can provide."_

"Tell me." God, his throat was dry. What he wouldn't do for an orange soda now.

"_Within the next twelve hours, you may discover some Mafioso from Agocchi trying to learn more about your dearest first cousin, Enrico Federico."_

"Who?"

"_He holds a tiny position in your esteemed company, and is currently, with your permission, looking for ways to further the Federico company in Agocchi." _

"Whoa, wait. I have a first cousin called Enrico? And why would I want to go into Agocchi? There's nothing there that isn't in York Shin. Only losers go there."

A deep exhalation of air could be heard across the phone and Eugenio got the sinking feeling that he had somehow disappointed her. _"Little Federico, what I mean is, for reasons you need not know of, I have gotten a friend of mine to pose as your imaginary first cousin Enrico. That is his cover story. I want you to back me on it if someone comes asking." _

"O… oh." Eugenio flushed with embarrassment, which was quickly followed by anger at his embarrassment. "Y… yeah I knew that."

"_Of course you did. Now, can I count on you to back me up?" _

Eugenio cleared his throat as he tried to reorganise his thoughts. "Yeah, sure," he said slowly, "but what do I gain from it?"

"_The opportunity to take down the Basilio family and take over all their assets."_

Eugenio blinked in surprise as he thought about that. Was she serious? Sure, Agocchi Mafioso were just a bunch of limp-dicks, but even he had heard of the Basilio family. They were a pretty big mafia family after all. Was June Kito suggesting… "You serious?" he asked dubiously. "You mean you're moving against the Basilio family?"

"_I did not say that. I merely said that by the end of this, the Basilio family estate and coffers will be in your hands, if you play your cards right." _

"That's… you can't guarantee I will get that. I can't help you based on returns that I may or may not get."

"_Little Federico, let me give you some assurance now." _Her voice lost its lazy drawl and became something fierce and confident. _"I am June Kito, and I will give you the best chance you will ever get to obtain the Basilio family if you assist me. Now, do we have a deal?"_

Eugenio swallowed hard. "Yeah," he said finally. "Yeah, we have a deal."

"_Good."_ June Kito's voice sounded pleased and Eugenio felt his hirsute chest swell with pride. _"We are in agreement then, little Federico."_ Damn, he loved it when she called him that. Oh god, what was wrong with him? Why did he enjoy being referred to as 'little'? In her presence, his brain not only turned gay, but five as well. His brain was now officially a five year old homosexual. Fuck.

"Great," Eugenio mumbled. "Is that all?"

"_Yes, that is all. I do apologise profusely for interrupting your board meeting. I'll let you get back to it."_

This time, Eugenio didn't even bother being shocked that she had known what he was doing when she called. This was June Kito; she was practically omniscient. "Yeah, well, not a problem. Those pricks were boring the fuck out of me anyway."

That got a genuine laugh out of her. _"Preach it, child. I shall never understand why all competent employees have to be so boring."_ Okay, now he couldn't decide which he liked being called more: 'little Federico' or 'child'. He was leaning towards the former; it had a more personal touch to it. Well, damn, he was how a five year old homosexual with a mummy-complex. Fuck.

"Yeah." Eugenio grinned at nothing in particular. "So uh, when do I get to meet you?"

"_Hmm. Let me see. If you do successfully take over Basilio's estate, we can meet for tea." _

Tea. "Is that euphemism for sex?" Eugenio asked hopefully then blanched. Fuck, he was now a five year old homosexual with a mummy-complex who wanted to screw his own... Oh fuck the images. He needed to get off the phone before he lost it completely.

She laughed again. _"I'll see you if I see you, little Federico. Goodbye."_

The phone went dead in his hands but Eugenio Federico could hardly care. Finally, after five years, he was starting to gain the right to be in June Kito's presence. If he played his cards right, he would be sipping some Earl Grey with her. Sure, she had put some obstacles in his way, but that was to be expected. She was the holy grail of the motherfucking allies to have after all. Besides, it wouldn't be that tough. Taking over some loser Agocchi mafia dude was going to be a walk in the park. He could probably do it in his sleep. In fact, there was only one thing left he had to think about:

What the fuck should he wear to tea with June Kito?

* * *

"I'll see you if I see you, little Federico. Goodbye." Hanging up, Midoya plopped down next to Kuroro and let her phone drop carelessly onto the bed. Arching her back luxuriously, she sighed with pleasure. "Done," she murmured.

"I assume your negotiation was a success," Kuroro noted as she smiled lazily up at him.

"Yes, as much as is possible," Midoya replied, squirming closer so she could curl up in his arms. "I'll give you a file on your new identity after."

"After what?" Kuroro asked as she moved from settling beside him to settling on top of him.

"After awesome morning sex," she murmured, starting to nibble his ear.

"An excellent idea," Kuroro agreed, pulling her closer.

As Kuroro started to pull her clothes off, Midoya looked around suddenly as if a thought had just struck her. "Kuroro, didn't Kikita say she will meet us back at the hotel?" she asked.

"Yes she did," Kuroro replied absently, trying to figure out if he wanted her partially undressed or fully undressed. There was always something intriguing about a partially clothed body that revealed as much as it concealed, but when things started getting rough, clothing just got in the way so much…

"Then Kuroro… Kuroro!" Midoya grabbed his ears and pulled mercilessly, forcing him to look up from her breasts to her eyes instead. "Where is she?"

* * *

A/N: Since someone asked, I might as well put it out here: Agocchi is an anagram of Chicago, but it is not based on Chicago. It is a totally fictional setting I invented for this story. That would explain why it doesn't really resemble the real Chicago. Like I said, I've never even been there, so I have no idea what Chicago even looks like.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter, my dear readers. Remember to leave a review before you go!

Trivial: Persuading Midoya _not_ to buy a country inhabited by cannibals was not the most insane thing Kuroro had to talk her out of doing. Other common phrases Kuroro found himself using around Midoya included, "Don't pet that baby dragon nestled next to its forty-feet, fire-breathing, easily agitated mother" and "Are you sure that between fighting thirty terrorists and jumping off a blimp at twenty thousand feet, jumping off is the _best_ plan?" Even more common are the phrases, "You can't go down York Shin roads during peak hour at two hundred miles per… please watch out for the woman crossing the road with a pram" and "I don't think you should push that button, Mi… oh look what you have done."

However, if questioned, both Midoya and Kuroro would agree that the real classic phrase Midoya most often heard Kuroro tell her was, "I am not comfortable with you doing that to me during sex… _oh._ Okay, I change my mind."


	7. Countdown: Sped Up

A/N: This is the sequel to A Series of Politically Inappropriate Happenings. This story will be a little different from the previous two (which were quite different from the first installment of The Series). It was inspired by two things: first, a desire to try a slightly different genre other than Humour (a more serious one, one might say) and second, the criticism that Kuroro's relationship with Midoya is a little too perfect. So, this story took a while to come out.

Disclaimer:I do not own Hunter X Hunter and all the characters affiliated with the manga/anime. All OCs are mine and mine alone. The views stated by the characters do not always reflect the views of the author either. All characters and settings in this story are fictional.

* * *

Countdown: Sped Up

Just about the time Kuroro was going through his customary readjustments to sleeping next to a corpse (always necessary after not meeting Midoya for an extended period of time), Kikita was busy hiding in the attic of her house, trying to decide if it was possible to take out the five Nen-users that had broken into her house without breaking those fucking vases John likes so much.

Scowling fiercely to herself, Kikita cursed Kuroro Lucifer and Midoya June Kito vehemently even as she sent her senses out to keep track of the intruders in her house. It was their fucking fault that Kikita was in this mess. After the fight with Kuroro Lucifer, during which, she had to admit, she had gained some respect for Midoya's newest fuck-toy, Kikita had, as planned, driven Decimal's car off to hide it. Blame the late night or her tiredness from the fight or PMS or whatever, she hadn't been paying much attention to the roads when she drove, which was just fucking stupid in hindsight given how she was driving the car of a dead serial killer. Either way, her mind had been wandering off on this and that… and the next thing she knew she had driven past a group of Decimal's buddies. She hadn't even fucking recognised them until a split second after she had passed them.

Then her mind had gone into freak-out mode. Had they noticed her? Had they recognised her? Had they recognised the car? Fuck, had they called for _reinforcements_?

She got her answer ten minutes later when a pair of headlights started to tail her. So they had recognised something. Shit. Maybe Midoya had a point about wearing disguises, as ridiculous as her disguise made her look. Blonde just did not go with her naturally bloodless complexion. Argh, mind wandering _again_. Are you not capable of learning, woman? At any rate, Kikita had decided that there was no use trying to drive Decimal's car off to an abandoned junkyard like she had initially planned. She wasn't sure how many men had been in the group that she drove past, but she was pretty certain it was a fucking lot more than one. Any girl going somewhere isolated with a bunch of men just wasn't going to have a good time. Still, it was inevitable that she was going to have to play their game. She knew she needed to kill those bastards. As far as she knew, no one knew Decimal was dead and it was best to keep it that way. Kito's fuck-toy had gone on about it enough for her to get that. She needed to get onto familiar turf then; somewhere she knew very well, somewhere she could defend from.

And fuck it, though she was regretting the decision now, home had seemed like the best idea at that time.

So here she was now, hiding in her house, Decimal's car (with a dead prostitute still in the trunk) in the garage, and hoping that these men didn't know for sure that Decimal hadn't been the one to drive to her place. The only fucking silver lining in the bloody, gloomy sky was that John was working overnight tonight and wouldn't be home for another three hours.

Not for the first time, Kikita glanced at her phone and wished she had remembered to charge it before she left home. The battery life was all but gone, so there was no way to let Midoya know she needed help. Hell, forget Midoya. At this point, Kikita would have called the fucking cops if she thought they would be of any use.

But hey, all was not lost. Kikita had gone straight to the attic the moment she reached home for a very specific reason. It was her area, the one room in the house John never came up to. Her husband thought it was her 'girl' room, the place where she went to have alone time with her and her romance novels or dolls or whatever it is girls do these days. He was only half-wrong; it _was_ her girl-room, just not in the way he imagined it to be.

Kikita took a long, loving look around the stacks and stacks and stacks of weapons that filled the room, each well-oiled, sharpened and personally cared for every single fucking day of the week. At the last count, she knew she had something like fifteen different types of weapons up here. The actual quantitative number was a lot larger. Why settle for one _kama_ when you can have two? And one can never have too many swords after all.

A grin spread over Kikita's face as she soundless walked up to a crate and pulled it open. Should she go with the spear or the katana? Maybe the broadsword? How about the morning star? Perhaps the club would be a better choice in the close confines of her house? Oh, she had so many babies and she was never one for favouritism. But there was no time to linger over them. She had to choose now.

Ten seconds later, Kikita felt that she had enough weapons to deal with the intruders. Strapped to her back were twin axes, short enough to be used in close quarters. Hanging from her waist were a collection of throwing knives, a brass knuckle and, her favourite, a genuine sixteenth century claymore.

There, Kikita beamed, stroking her babies lovingly, now she felt complete.

Grinning like a maniac, Kikita sidled to the attic trapdoor and pressed her ear to it. Her eyes closed as she listened intensely. Footsteps. From the sound of it, three were in the first floor… in the living room. Two were walking about in the second floor, searching for her, was her guess, given how they were keeping their footsteps light. Idiots. She couldn't believe they had separated like that. Their advantage was their numbers, and they had just given that up.

Sitting back on her heels, Kikita chuckled darkly as excitement coursed through her veins. It would be nice if she could just charge downstairs and beat the shit out of them, but she wouldn't. She was a berserker, not a fucking moron. There were five of them and one of her. It was time to change tactics to something she was pretty darn good at. After all, being a Poacher Hunter, sneaking through forests and jungles, single-handedly taking on forces that vastly out-numbered her, had made her a fucking expert in guerrilla warfare.

Instead of exiting through the trapdoor, Kikita moved as silent as a shadow to the tiny window in the attic and pushed it open gently. It was well-oiled because she made damn sure it was. Sticking her head out, Kikita took a quick look around just to make sure the coast was clear. It was, so Kikita stuck her arms out and started to pull herself through, cursing her big bones and breasts every inch of the way. It was a fucking miracle how she could squeeze every part of her anatomy through most tiny spaces except her fucking boobs. For parts that were generally soft and squishy, one would have thought they would be compressible or something, but _no_… Even blouses and dresses… Seriously, why did they tend to fit everywhere but her boobs? And it wasn't like she had large boobs or anything like that. They just didn't want to fit into anything nicely. Oh, the dress fits your shoulders and hips perfectly? Then the boobs will do everything _but_ fit because they're boobs, fuck you very much. Seriously, what the fuck…! It made buying dresses so difficult, and even if she didn't necessarily like wearing dresses, it was nice to wear them for John once in a while and…

Despite the difficulties, she managed to squeeze through nonetheless. She knew she would have been able to; she had tried this window multiple times before they bought the house. She had a five pound leeway; as long as she didn't gain more than five pounds, she would be able to fit through it if she held her breath and thought tiny thoughts.

Eventually, Kikita managed to manoeuvre herself out of the window. Clenching her core muscles, she slowly rotated her entire body, strong fingers gripping the ledge of the window, so she was lying flat on her stomach on the roof of her house. With great caution, she let go of the window ledge and started to inch her way towards the edge of the roof. At the edge, she paused again and listened hard. The two in the second floor were still moving stealthily about. In fact, one was coming her way.

Grinning in anticipation, Kikita lowered herself over the edge of the roof, eyeing the window ledge directly below her. Then she let go.

Her fingers almost skidded past before she gripped the window ledge in a death grip and her heart pounded with excitement. God, this was fucking fun.

Kikita took a risk and peeped over. Ah. Guest bedroom. As good a place as any. In silence, Kikita hung by the window ledge, her eyes closed as she listened carefully. Patience… patience… patience… There! He was in the room!

Gently, Kikita tapped her fingernails against the window ledge; a small sound, enough to make him curious but not enough to alert him. Footsteps… closer… closer…

A dark shadow fell over Kikita's face. She barely got the impression of a bulldog-like face before she lunged up, letting go of the window ledge to grab that thick, sinewy neck and twist _hard_. As she dropped, she pulled the body over with one hand and grabbed the ledge with the other. The heavy corpse, smelling strongly of sweat toppled over and landed with a surprising lack of sound on the soft lawn below. Kikita grimaced at the sight it made, sprawled right next to a bed of roses. Oh god, she had to clean this all up before John came home. Poor John would get a heart attack if he saw that ugly thing lying beside his roses; he spent so much time cultivating them.

"Hey, Spike," a male voice said from within the room. "You there, bro?"

Oh good, her prey just came over himself. No need for Kikita to deliberately hunt him down then.

"Spike?"

The voice was coming closer. Stealthily, Kikita slipped one of those nifty little throwing knives out of her belt and held it loosely in her hand. Midoya had custom-made these for her for her birthday. They were perfectly-balanced, tough as titanium, and were as good for throwing as they were for stabbing things. Each individual blade cost a damn fortune to make too. Being friends with that rich little bitch sure came in useful sometimes.

"Spike?" Now the voice sounded alarmed. "Dude, this is not funny. Reply, damn it."

Yet again, a dark shadow fell over her and Kikita leapt up again, knife flashing.

"Oh sh…" The man didn't even manage to finish his last words before Kikita plunged the knife deep into his throat. Leaving the knife in to reduce the amount of arterial spray she would need to clean up later, Kikita tugged the man over so he fell next to his bro.

Fantastic. Just three more. Now, she just needed to…

"Kikita?"

Kikita froze in horror. Fuck, no way! She was supposed to have another two hours at least! Oh fuck! Oh fucking fuck, fuck! Oh fucking fucking fuck fuckity fuck. She couldn't look down; she couldn't look down now. She didn't want to see the look on his face…

"Kikita? Honey bun?" the same voice repeated, just a bit louder.

Swallowing, Kikita looked over her shoulder and down onto the lawn.

John Smith, accountant and \ overweight stared at her in bemusement as he asked the question she dreaded the most, "Gosh, sweetie, what are you doing hanging out the window like that? You're gonna get a cold is what you're gonna get."

Oh dear god. "Hi darling," Kikita said weakly. "Oh… uh… I'm… I'm falling out of the window…?"

"By golliwag-gall! Why are you falling out of the window? Gosh, this is quite a scare. Don't worry my sweetie, I'm going to get a ladder… Are those… what are these two drunks doing, lying on our lawn like this!" John Smith's eyes widened in horror. "Oh no! My precious pipsqueak, are we being robbed? Are you hiding from burglars? Well, I'll be a doddly-doddled-do! I'm going to get rid of them now. Just let me call the police and they'll be right here."

"Hush!" Kikita hissed. "Be quiet!"

John, dear, precious, innocent John, stared up at her in confusion. "Pipsqueak?" he asked querulously.

"I… I will explain," Kikita whispered, regretting the promise even as she made it. "Just… be quiet, babe. Give me your hand." Letting go of the ledge, she dangled a hand down, still gripping the ledge with the other. "Come on! There are more in the first floor. You can't get in through the front door. I'll pull you up here."

"But… sweetie-sweet, are you sure? I'm quite heavy… ohmygoshigoshgush!" John blinked at her from behind his glasses as she swung him off the lawn and deposited him in the guest bedroom. Nimbly, Kikita scrambled over and dragged him quickly into the attached bathroom.

"Hush darling," Kikita repeated nervously. "There are three more men in the living room. They probably already know we're up here, but not where exactly. I'm doing my best to mess with their Nen… uh… sensors… like radar. Anyway, just be quiet. We need to be quiet."

John stared at her then at his hand, the same one she had used to lift him into the room. "Sweetie…" John's voice trailed off hesitantly. "Sweetie… when did you… have you always been that goddily-wag strong?"

Kikita cringed. "Uh… yeah," she mumbled.

"Well… I never knew! How odd is that?" She saw when another thought occurred to him. "And… those two men on the lawn. They were… they weren't drunk… were they?"

Oh fuck. "No babe," Kikita sighed. "I… uh… I killed them. In self-defence, I meant."

With almost painful gentleness, her darling John took her powerful hands in his soft ones and turned her so she faced him. "Darling. My cupcake. My sweet Kikita," he said softly. "Just… what on earth is going on?"

* * *

Three heavily armed and powerful Nen-users were probably on their way up, ready to hack her and her husband to pieces. They were strong, they out-numbered her, and she was trapped in an enclosed space with her non-combatant husband. Things couldn't have been any worse, and Kikita Timbal couldn't care less; she had a greater crisis at hand. A prolonged, torturous death could wait. She had to _explain her dangerous job to her husband first_.

"So," John said thoughtfully, "when you say you are a 'Poacher' Hunter, you meant it quite… literally?"

Kikita took a deep breath. "Yes, I hunt poachers for a living. Literally."

"So…" John gave her a miserable look, "you didn't really raise a baby lion from cub to adult?"

"I did!" Kikita protested. "I did raise a baby lion. Fluffy is real! I just… it's not my only job. It's not even my main job. I just like… I liked raising Fluffy because I have a soft spot for him. He clawed out the eyes of the poachers that killed his mum."

"Oh, I see," John said, brightening up. "That's a fine thing to hear! I've always liked the pictures of you with Fluffy. You always look so happy in them."

"That's sweet of you to say," Kikita said hopefully.

"Yes, of course, my sweet… who is… well… you're more tough than sweet, aren't you?"

"Uh…" Kikita tried to school her face into a look of pure sweetness and failed entirely. "Yes, I am," she finally admitted in defeat. "I can shoot out a man's eye from three hundred feet away with a pebble." She gave him a doleful look. "It's not that difficult actually if you find a _good_ pebble. _Anyone_ can do it. I'm not freaky."

"Oh." John was looking at her like he had never seen her before. "Well… that's… well." He blinked at her. "Do you… work alone?"

"Mostly," Kikita confessed, "though I do have colleagues I tend to team up with."

"Ah. Uh… just let me clarify one thing." John took a deep breath. "You know. Um. I assume most of your fellow… hunters are… are male, are they?"

"Uh. Well, some are. It's quite an even ratio actually. Why are you asking, babe?"

"Oh. Because, the last time I met one of your fellow hunters… this… ah… Kite?'

"Oh, Kite. Yes? What about him?"

"Well. He's… he's a very dashing lad that one, isn't he?"

Kikita stared. "Kite is a _colleague_," she said firmly. "And not a very close one too. What are you saying, John?"

"Well... oh goshy-gosh, this is putting me in a pretty spot, this is," John flushed. "But… I mean, I've always assumed that people working in animal conservation were female. I meant… I always thought women were more prone to uh… raising lions. So, I always thought you worked with other women. I meant… Midoya is a woman… right? Oh I'll be a dandy-dandelion! She's not a guy in drag, is she? I've always thought there was something wrong with the way she looks!"

Kikita glared then urgently turned her glare into a stare (she had learned the hard way most 'normal' people didn't respond well to being glared at by Nen-users; they tended to drop dead, normally from cardiac arrest). "John, I just told you I am a killer, a murderer and an expert in guerrilla warfare, and the things that worry you are whether I might be having an affair with my colleagues and whether Midoya is actually a man in drag?"

John blushed harder. "Goshygoo, I guess that's silly of me." He was silent for a moment, and she let him have that. There had maybe fifteen seconds before they needed to change position or risk discovery, but he deserved that moment to absorb what his wife had just told him. "Well now, how about that?" he said finally, and Kikita couldn't tell if there was any judgement in his voice. "My wife isn't an animal conservationist, at least not in the sense I imagined her to be. She's a… a hunter, in the true sense of that word. I'll be danglily-doo is what I'll be."

"Oh, fuck. Come on, love," Kikita fretted, "don't be mad with me. I'm sure you understand why I never told you. My job is dangerous and…"

"Sweetie-sweet?" John cleared his throat. "Uh… I have a confession to make."

She was sweating so hard she was sure she was going to pass out from dehydration. "Yes?" she asked nervously.

"I… I actually don't like flowers." John took a deep, steadying breath. "And… I don't really like… babies. I don't like doing indoor decorating. I don't… I don't like watching romantic comedies either. And I'm actually not afraid of blood and violence."

Kikita blinked. "But…" she stammered, "but… you're always going on about your garden! And… and… that movie about that cute boy who meets that cute girl… and…"

"Well yes," John said sheepishly, and a blush rose in his swallow cheeks, "I kept talking about them because I thought _you_ liked them." He flushed even more. "Cupiecake… I thought you were a sweet, nurturing woman who spends her time breeding endangered animals and caring for wounded animals. I thought… I thought since you liked animals, you will like flowers and babies as well. Oh goddily-do, this is embarrassing is what it is. I pretended to like romantic comedies because I thought you liked them."

"Because… I pretended to like them because _I_ thought you liked them." Kikita stared at him. "So… you _don't_ like gardening?"

"No, I prefer a good ol' game of _Zombie Killer_, is what I do," John confessed. "I like thrillers too or a good ol' horror movie with plenty of them gore and blood in it. And… I'm not actually afraid of cockroaches. I quite like… hunting them down and killing them actually. It's very satisfying, is what it is."

"It is! I love it when they go squish!"

"Yes! Exactly! That moment when you finally get those speedy little buggery-buggers is just so goodily-good!"

"I know exactly what you mean, darling!" Kikita replied and her eyes misted over. "So darling… you… me… Now that you know what my job is really about… do you…?"

"I love you even more, my little dandy-dandelion!" John Smith replied, his eyes wet. He took a deep breath and happily said, "I can't believe I am married to a true-blue special ops combatant! I feel right and dandy is how I feel! Do I get to see the attic filled with weapons that you told me about?"

"Oh darling, of course you do."

"Fabulous!" John beamed. "Do you use things like night-vision goggles and frag grenades? Can I try the goggles on too? I mean… we could even do it… in… uh… bed. If you know what I mean, kisses."

"Absolutely, darling. Oh, sex is going to be so fun from now on. Midoya is going to be so jealous! She can keep her Dancho all she likes. I've got my own little wild beast here!"

"Wild beast! By golly-gosh, I do like the sound of that. Rawr, I'm a wild beast! But hey, what did you mean by Dan…"

A footstep. Kikita froze and put her finger on John's lips. "Two people are coming up to the second floor," she told him, listening hard.

"Really?" John turned his ear towards the door. "I can't hear a thing."

"It's… I have very good hearing." Kikita glanced at the expectant look on his face and added, "I've had _special-ops_ training."

"Goshy-goo," John breathed, his eyes glowing with excitement and respect. "So what do we do now, sweetie?"

"Oh darling, just wait here, I'm going to take care of them."

"Yes, of course." John looked at her closely. "Is that… is that a real sword on your hip?"

"Yes darling."

"And… axes."

"Yes."

"Wow." John held out a hand. "Pass me an axe. If one of those men come by, I'll give them a good ol' whacking."

"That's the sexiest thing I've ever heard you say," Kikita whispered, passing him one of her axes.

"Cuppiecake, you are so beautiful." John took the axe and waved it with more enthusiasm than skill. "Don't worry about me now. Just go out there and do your thing, my sexy Hunter. Tally-ho and away!"

Kikita giggled (and swore never to let Midoya find out; she would just laugh at her). "On it," she said and gave what she felt was a rather special-ops-like salute. "Shout if you need my help."

Grinning widely, Kikita moved out of the bathroom and towards the bedroom door. Cautiously, she opened the door and peeked out. No one around. Excellent. John had found out her secret and he was okay with it. Fuck _yeah_, because now, she could go all out if she wanted to. Turns out neither of them liked the décor of their house anyway so…

Clenching her hands into fists, Kikita smashed them into the floor, notifying the intruders exactly where she was. But no matter. Kikita's grin widened even more as she felt her Nen start to swell. By the time they got here, she would be _fully powered up_.

Fists pounding her chest, Kikita threw back her head and screamed with rage.

Come on. Come to your death. And do it quickly. She had things to do with her husband after all. Things that involved night vision goggles and her other babies. Very _sexy _things…

* * *

"Midoya, you can't be serious," Kuroro protested testily and was promptly ignored.

Sighing in frustration, Kuroro stretched out on the bed and watched Midoya redial Kikita's number. "Prioritise, Kuroro dear," Midoya said patiently. "Kikita should have contacted us hours ago and she still isn't picking up her phone. We need to check on her."

"I can't imagine anyone getting the better of her," Kuroro pointed out. "Besides, if she hasn't contacted us in hours, waiting half an hour more wouldn't make a difference, so why can't we have sex first?" He smiled coaxingly at her. "I could speed things up so we only take fifteen minutes if you prefer it that way."

"Kuroro dear, go take a bath," Midoya said firmly and Kuroro knew he wasn't going to win the argument.

Trying not to pout, he dragged himself into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Quite deliberately, he stepped into the freezing stream of water. Oh. Cold. He's always hated the cold.

"_Ah, Kikita. Finally. Where have you been, you irresponsible little twat? You should have reported in hours ago."_ Kuroro looked up hopefully at that. It looked like Midoya had finally contacted Kikita. Well, maybe she would be in the mood for morning sex now. Happily, Kuroro switched on the water heater and let the water falling around him warm up.

Finally, dried and smelling of Midoya's soap, Kuroro exited the bathroom and headed for Midoya, who was sprawled on the bed, smiling to herself.

"So what caused the delay?" Kuroro asked as he climbed back under the sheets.

"Officially, according to Kikita, an attack on her house by some of Basilio's One Star Hunters and her failure to charge her phone."

"Unofficially?"

"Unofficially?" Midoya smiled. "Based on what I deduced from the sounds in the background, she was in a sex coma from awesome truth-revealed-and-accepted sex with her husband."

Which was an image Kuroro really didn't want in his head. Well, he could easily remedy that by replacing it with another image. "Doesn't seem fair she's the only one who gets to have sex," he murmured, pulling Midoya closer to him. "How about we do something about that?"

This time, Midoya agreed.

* * *

With the hours counting down to the ball, Midoya told him that it was necessary to start preparing for the assassination of Basilio. Kuroro wasn't exactly sure why it would take her such a long time to prepare for a ball, but he wisely decided to keep that comment to himself. So, while Midoya disappeared into the bathroom, Kuroro settled back in a chair to re-read the file she had prepared for him. Normally, it didn't take him long to memorise a fake identity, but Midoya had created an extremely detailed character for him to take on. Since Kuroro was not sure to what extent his identity would be probed, he decided to err on the side of caution and make an effort to truly remember very single detail of Enrico Basilio. Hence, with the shower running in the background, Kuroro flipped open the folder and started to read.

After a while, he looked up and realised with no small degree of surprise that an hour had gone by and Midoya still wasn't out of the bathroom. That was highly unusual. She was never the kind to take her time in the shower. Even when drenched with blood, it shouldn't have taken her more than half an hour to scrub herself clean.

Frowning, Kuroro walked over to the bathroom and knocked on it. "Are you still in there?" he asked, because he was pretty certain Midoya was perfectly capable of sneaking out of the bathroom without alerting him.

"_Yeah,"_ Midoya's voice replied, sounding muffled.

"Oh good. Are you going to be long? I need to bathe too."

"_Uh… I'll be a while." _

Kuroro stared suspiciously at the door. "What are you doing, Midoya?" he asked.

"_Getting ready for tonight. Just… Oh. Oops." _Something sizzled and crackled. Kuroro frowned and pressed his ear to the door. The sound of sizzling continued. Abruptly, he was aware that water was seeping out from under the door and that Midoya's Nen was slightly elevated.

"Midoya, are you building Nen-bombs in there?" Kuroro demanded.

Something crackled again. _"Erm…Maybe?" _

Kuroro eyed the door and shook his head. That woman… His Ryodan always complained that he played his cards too close to his heart but in all honesty, he had nothing on Midoya when it came to keeping silent about upcoming missions. It made it very exciting to work with her, yes, but her tendency to not tell him her plans could get annoying. "Will it kill you to tell me what you have in mind?" Kuroro asked. "If you're going to be throwing explosives about, I would like to know about it in advance."

"_Why spoil the fun?"_ she giggled and her voice was cheerful and mischievous. She was in the kind of mood where she would do violent things in the name of entertainment. It was during these times that Kuroro found her the most attractive because it was when she most resembled a Spider. Kuroro briefly considered joining her in the shower, but the thought of the most-likely-highly-explosive things lying about in that tiny space right next to extremely sensitive parts of his anatomy made it sound quite imprudent to do so.

"I'll leave you to your work then," Kuroro said, deciding it was best to back away slowly from the bathroom, just in case. "Maybe I'll forgo the bath."

"_Sure. I have wet wipes in my purse if you want them. Oops! Uh… that was… nothing." _

Kuroro eyed the water coming out from under the door which had, somehow, caught fire. "Well, please keep our room in a more or less pristine shape," he told the door. "I would rather not have to explain how our room caught fire and flooded at the same time."

"_Fear not, dear. The hotel owner is head over heels in lust with you. I'm sure we can get away with a few mishaps." _

"Dear Midoya, if I have to seduce our host just so you can get away with blowing up half her property, I shall have to spank you."

"_Oh, don't say that. I'm building bombs here and a lustful frame of mind is not a good one to be in when imbuing bombs with Nen. It would be embarrassing if my bombs made people orgasm instead of explode into tiny pieces. It is possible you know… Nen is a pretty unstable force to mess around with." _

Since she had a point there, Kuroro decided to just agree with her and leave her to her work. "I'll change just out here then," he told the door. "I assume my coat is sufficiently formal for the ball?"

"_No dear, not your coat. It's too distinctive. I got you a tuxedo. It is in the closet." _

Kuroro blinked. He hadn't been aware that she had gotten a tuxedo for him. When had she even found the time to do that? Well, efficiency, thy embodiment is obviously Midoya. Wandering over to the closet, Kuroro opened the door and pulled out the suit hanging in there. It turned out to be a much nicer version of the suit he had worn to the York Shin auction. It was black, expensively-cut and, as it turned out, fit him perfectly.

As he stared at himself in the mirror, Kuroro wondered when Midoya had taken measurements of his body and whether he should be worried that he _had never known._ Perhaps not. Midoya has had intimate access to various parts of his anatomy over the years they had known each other. It wouldn't be impossible for her to be able to gauge, with great accuracy, what size he wore.

With that interesting thought, Kuroro settled back on the chair again to wait for her.

Right around the time Kuroro was considering kicking the bathroom door down from sheer boredom, Midoya finally emerged, fully dressed with makeup on, and not a single bomb in sight. Kuroro resisted the urge to search the long, elegant black gown she was wearing. He had never been able to find out where she hid her weapons when dressed in skimpy gowns like that, except for that one rather traumatic time in bed when… Kuroro shuddered off the memory and took in the rest of Midoya's new look.

In the spirit of disguise, she had put on her blonde wig and blue contacts to go with her black evening gown. It was strapless, long and cascaded behind her like a waterfall. It looked beautiful and elegant and extremely impractical in a fight. So did the tall heels she was wearing. But, Kuroro had to admit, the effect was pretty good. With the pile of makeup on her face and over the scars she had acquired from her time as a corpse, she looked pretty and bland at the same time, cute enough to be a mafia moll but not beautiful enough to draw attention. More importantly, she looked nothing like June Kito or Blacklist Hunter Midoya.

"It's an excellent disguise," Kuroro told her and she smiled, obviously pleased with his approval.

"How kind of you to say so." Her head tilted as she observed him critically. "But Kuroro, your disguise is hardly complete."

"It isn't?" Kuroro glanced at his reflection in the mirror. He was already wearing the tuxedo and he had his customary white bandanna around his forehead. He had no idea what else he needed.

"Dear, no self-respecting mafia boss would wear a bandanna to a ball of all places," Midoya said, going back into the bathroom and re-emerging with a box of cosmetics. "Take it off."

"But, my tattoo…"

"I know." Midoya smiled sweetly and started pulling _things_ out of her box. "I'll cover it with makeup. I have some industrial strength grease paint in here, which I used on my Y-incision scar. If it can cover that, it should cover your tattoo. It's a good thing our skin tones are quite similar. You are a little more tanned, but not by much. It shouldn't be a big problem."

For a brief moment, Kuroro considered kicking up a fuss about having makeup put on his face, but the idea that Midoya would just look down her nose at him and tell him to stop being a child put that thought away. After all, he had asked his Spiders to do worse for the sake of a mission. He could put up with this. That didn't mean he had to be quiet about it though.

So, for the next half an hour, Kuroro Lucifer, Dancho of the Genei Ryodan, complained and squirmed and frowned in an effort to put Midoya's legendary patience to the test. To his disappointment, she barely batted an eyelash at his behaviour. Instead, she calmly lathered something thick and creamy onto his forehead with a brush, tilting his head left and right as she frowned at his tattoo.

"It's not covering well," she told him. "Your tattoo is too… blue. But no worries. I've got an idea. We'll turn it into a scar. Hold still."

Since that would make her job too easy, Kuroro put more effort into his squirming, until Midoya finally tapped him gently on the forehead with a brush and commented on how easy it would be for her to use the end of the brush to give him a _real_ scar. Given that he had already accomplished his goal of irritating Midoya and since he didn't want her to ruin his tattoo, Kuroro sat still as she finished doing something to his forehead.

Finally, she was done, but before she let him look at his face, she pulled out another box filled with jewellery and started decking his neck with gold chains and his fingers with rings. "It's customary to show off your wealth in places like this," she explained.

"Okay," Kuroro agreed, since he might be able to pocket the jewellery after the mission, if Midoya forgets about them.

"There," Midoya said proudly once she was done. "What do you think?"

Kuroro stared at the mirror. With the faint, pale scar Midoya had sculpted onto his forehead, his hair slicked back, the massive amount of gold jewellery dangling from his neck and the expensive tuxedo, Kuroro thought that he looked like an exemplary specimen of a particular nocturnal creature. "I look like an expensive pimp," he told her, trying to decide if he should be distressed or not. Trust Midoya to make him feel like a pair of jeans.

"Excellent! Just the effect I was going for," Midoya said, beaming.

"Mafia bosses look like expensive pimps?"

"Mafia bosses are nothing _but_ expensive pimps," Midoya corrected. "You look perfect. Now just wear a smug look or a snarl on your face the entire night and you will fit right in."

Kuroro pulled his face experimentally into a smug look. Then he tried the snarl. Neither looked good on him so he tried looking like an evil capitalist with a penchant for robbing people blind (a role that was at least, half familiar to him). It still didn't look right to him.

"Try looking like you just had sex where you actually lasted more than five minutes," Midoya suggested then sniggered when he made the face as requested. "Sorry, bad suggestion."

Eventually, after another fifteen minutes of trying out various expressions and Midoya throwing in helpful comments (such as "Why don't you try imagining you are a bulldog that just ate a squirrel it turned out to be in love with?" and "Oh! I know! Pretend you just ate a lemon and are at the moment sucking on a Popsicle to get rid of the taste!"), Kuroro settled on a slight variant of his normal facial expression: his normal blank face with slightly elevated eyebrows and a faint smile. It made him look a lot more insidious and sly than he normally did but was not too tiring to maintain for a couple of hours.

With his cover now set, Kuroro glanced up at Midoya who was looking at her face closely in the mirror. As he watched, she systematically smoothed all expression out of her face. Then she widened her eyes ever so slightly, smiled easily and relaxed her cheeks. Immediately, the quirky, sardonic Midoya that Kuroro knew so well disappeared to be replaced by a friendly, welcoming stranger. If he had passed her on the streets, he would have not recognised her. He wouldn't even have remembered her face except for the vague impression that there was something rather… pretty and silly about it.

With a final tweak of her facial muscles, Midoya turned to him and smiled vacantly. "Good evening, Mr Federico. My name is Misha and I am your hired company for the night," she said, her voice sweet and lilting and entirely different from her normal voice. "Are you ready to leave? The limousine is here." Even her body language had changed, becoming looser, slightly gawky and extremely unguarded.

"Of course, Misha," Kuroro replied, deciding to alter his voice so it was a little hoarser than his normal voice. Politely, he offered her his arm and she took it, tugging herself close to him. As she did, Kuroro took one last look around the hotel room. "Alright," he said. "Now that we're settled, dear Misha, let's go kill a powerful mafia boss."

* * *

In Agocchi, as in many big metropolises, the night was when the city truly came to life. Neon lights appeared shortly after sundown, flashing through the night like beacons from a lighthouse. Music, loud, disorientating and exhilarating, pounded through the darkness. Like magical creatures in a fairy tale, the beautiful people emerged from their little holes, glowing, perfumed and vibrating with life. And as they swayed and twirled to the music of the night, the predators emerged too, fangs and claws hidden in the darkness until the very last second when it didn't matter anymore.

Hisoka straightened the bowtie at his collar and smiled at the beautiful people flitting past. So sweet, so young, so full of life; he could remedy all of that for them, could chew on them till they lost their flavour, lost their vitality, lost their lives. But he wouldn't. Not tonight. Tonight, he had a date with a lovely lady with an intriguing proposal.

Smiling to himself, Hisoka slipped the fake documents she had given him into his pocket, just as a limousine turned around a corner and screeched to a stop before him.

"Good evening, sir," the chauffer said in a distinctly dour voice, coming out and opening the door for him.

"Good evening," Hisoka replied, eyes flickering over the chauffer and liking what he saw; much older than his usual prey but obviously just as delicious. "Are you part of the payment?" he asked hopefully.

The man's narrow, feral face split in a fierce smile and Nen flooded his arm, turning his hands briefly into claws before they reverted back. "No, sir," he drawled curtly and slammed the door shut behind Hisoka.

"Pity," Hisoka murmured as the chauffer slipped behind the wheel. "It would have been fun." He licked his lips, deliberately catching the chauffer's eyes in the rear mirror. The chauffer glared back then looked away.

"Are you ready to leave, sir?" the chauffer asked, an unnecessary question since he was already pulling away from the curb.

"Of course," Hisoka replied anyway, suppressing a giggle. "Let's go now. We have a ball to attend to."

* * *

A/N: Since I'm going to be overseas for the next couple of days, I decided to upload this chapter early. It's not a particularly exciting or long chapter; more of a build up to the actual event, with all the various elements gathering. Still hope it's a good read though. Next week, Kuroro and Midoya finally get to meet their enemy! Whee!

Trivial: Now that both John's and Kikita's secrets are out in the open, their lives together have become far less colourful. The flowers and vases were thrown out, the cross-stiches of babies were discarded, the pretty wallpaper was torn down and the pastel coloured furniture was sold. In short, John and Kikita underwent an entire makeover of their house such that the next time Midoya visited, she found herself standing in the driveway, gaping at the new house and wondering whether she had gotten the address wrong.

The tiled rooms have been replaced with metal sheets, the curtains with bars. The walls were now reinforced concrete. The garden had been dug up and lined with, Midoya's senses told her, Nen-mines. When she walked up to the steel-reinforced door and knocked, Kikita had ushered her into the living room filled with sandbags, army-grade camouflage, and more weapons than Midoya, with all her years of weapon experimentation, could identify.

As she had stared at the new in-door decorations, John had come down the stairs, dressed in army combat fatigues and greeted her with a "Hiddy-ho, Midoya!"

"Hello," Midoya had replied politely, staring openly. When John went into the kitchen to get her a drink, she had turned to Kikita and added, "He does know those combat boots are fake right? And that the knife he is carrying is made of plastic? And no real soldier wears pants that tight or shirts that… short?"

"Yes, yes," Kikita had replied sweetly, "John knows he is no combatant. His outfit is solely for… entertainment purposes."

And that, Midoya decided, as she sat down to a meal of army rations and purified water, was the grossest thing she had heard in a while.


	8. Armando Basilio

A/N: This is the sequel to A Series of Politically Inappropriate Happenings. This story will be a little different from the previous two (which were quite different from the first installment of The Series). It was inspired by two things: first, a desire to try a slightly different genre other than Humour (a more serious one, one might say) and second, the criticism that Kuroro's relationship with Midoya is a little too perfect. So, this story took a while to come out.

Disclaimer:I do not own Hunter X Hunter and all the characters affiliated with the manga/anime. All OCs are mine and mine alone. The views stated by the characters do not always reflect the views of the author either. All characters and settings in this story are fictional.

* * *

Armando Basilio

_There was a persistent itch at her knee, just at that spot behind the knee cap. _

_Tiny, pudgy arms strained at the canvas wrapped around her, forcing her arms close to her chest. No matter how much she pulled and tugged, no matter how hard she struggled, she couldn't free her arms from the confines of the straitjacket. _

_There was a persistent itch at her knee. _

_A sob rose at the back of her throat, but she swallowed it back. No more tears, she had promised herself, no more tears and no more weaknesses. There was still hope. There must still be hope. Maybe if she tried twisting around like that…_

_There was a persistent itch at her knee. _

_Or maybe if she tried…_

_The itch grew unbearable. _

_In the darkness of the room, the child screamed and screamed until blood poured out of her throat. _

* * *

From a distance, the Basilio mansion resembled nothing more than a massive pile of glowing granite vomit. The uneven, somewhat round building sat on a slightly elevated hill with no other houses within three miles of it. There had to be a million and one rooms in the building for as far as Kuroro could see, for the building seemed to be lit up like a disco ball. When he eventually got closer, he was dismayed to discover that he hadn't been wrong: the entire front of the mansion was covered with glowing, sparkling disco balls.

"Mid… I mean Misha, what is this monstrosity that had befell this world?" he protested. "This cannot be right."

"Unfortunately, it is," Midoya replied wryly.

"I told you Armando Basilio is like the most tasteless man ever," Kikita, the chauffer, growled. "Those aren't even proper 1970s disco balls."

Kuroro eyed the back of her head thoughtfully. Though Kikita was supposed to be their chauffer, she was, in his opinion, dressed nothing like one. The white skirt she was wearing was much too short, the dress shirt she wore was much too tight, and the sailor hat she wore on her head seemed too much like a costume. "Why is my chauffer dressed like this? She looks cold." he asked.

"Because you are a pervert and want to be able to ogle her breasts when she opens the door for you, dear," Midoya replied as if it should have been obvious. "All you mafia bosses are like that."

"Always coping a feel whenever you can," Kikita agreed with a mock sigh. "Man, I fucking hate working for you thugs. If I had gone to school and gotten a proper education, I wouldn't have needed to sell my body to earn a living, like Misha there. Damn, the fucking regrets and all that shit."

"Ah," Kuroro said, greatly enlightened and, just for verisimilitude, groped Midoya a little. She giggled and slapped his hand away with a weak, fluttering motion.

"Oh _you_, Mr Federico," she tittered and Kuroro backed away till he couldn't back away any further.

"You are entirely too good at this," he said accusingly and she laughed a much more Midoya-like laugh.

The limousine screeched abruptly to a stop. "Okay, we are here," Kikita said sternly. "Get the fuck out and stop flirting in my car. I hate cleaning up body fluids from the leather."

"Pepeka is always so much more understanding when I have backseat sex with Kuroro," Midoya sighed.

"Midoya!"

"No idea who that is," Midoya chirped cheerfully and Kikita growled at her before getting out of the car and opening the car door for them.

"Sir, Miss," she said in a voice that was barely servile enough for the role she was playing.

Right. Time for role-playing. Kuroro climbed out of the car, remembered to ogle Kikita's breasts with an appropriate leer then waited with an air of mild impatience for Midoya to join him. When she did, she wrapped her arms around his and leaned against him as if she were already drunk. Trying not to stagger under her weight or step on her train, Kuroro strode towards the entrance where a handsome man in a uniform smiled brightly at him.

"Good evening," the man said, bowing slightly. "Your name and invite, sir?"

"Enrico Federico and my date," Kuroro said haughtily, as if he expected his name to be instantly recognised. Carelessly, he tossed the invite at the man and strode in without being invited. The man blinked and opened his mouth to protest, but evidently thought better of it. Instead, he glanced at the invite, confirmed its validity and simply let Kuroro walk through. Ah, it seemed an arrogant attitude brought a certain amount of leeway in these events. Always good to know.

Kuroro barely took two steps before another uniformed man, as handsome as the previous one, stopped him. "Sir, if you have any weapons, please leave them here," the man said, and though he sounded polite, his tone also indicated he would not be as easily pushed over as the previous man.

Kuroro gave him an even look, long enough to make the point that he was not taking orders from some mere plebeian, and drew the gun Midoya had given him in the car out of his pocket. "If it goes missing, I will have your head on a spike," he said, imitating Kikita's scowl.

"Of course, sir," the man replied, unflustered. He obviously had some sort of training before. Probably ex-military. "Madam?"

Midoya turned her blank smile on him. "I don't carry weapons," she said, and somehow produced a pretty blush (Midoya almost never blushed; she was too shameless for that), "I don't know one end of a gun from the other, and wouldn't want to anyway. They're so loud and scary."

Midoya, Kuroro mused, as he watched the ex-military guard smile genuinely and tell her guns didn't suit sweet little dames like her anyway, was a really, _really_ excellent liar.

"May I take a look at your purse, Miss?" the guard asked, still smiling disarmingly.

"Oh… oh, of course," Midoya said shyly, passing her purse over.

"Thank you, Mi… oh fuck." The guard looked horrified as a box of tampons fell out of the purse.

Midoya's hands flew to her mouth in an expression of pure embarrassment. "Oh!" she exclaimed and looked so dismayed even Kuroro, who knew she was only acting, felt like putting his arm around her.

"I'm so sorry," the guard said, obviously flustered as he put the box back in and passed the purse to her. "So very sorry."

"No, no, I'm sorry," Midoya whispered, taking back the purse.

"No, I am the one who should be…"

Kuroro cleared his throat loudly. "Can we go in now?" he demanded with contrived irritation.

The guard blinked and turned even redder than he already was. "Of course, of course. This way then, Sir, Madam," the man said, ushering them through a metal detector. They passed through easily, and Kuroro wondered just where Midoya was hiding the bombs she had been making.

"And welcome to the Basilio mansion," Midoya murmured, her head leaning against his shoulder casually, her embarrassed little girl act dropped the moment the guard was out of sight.

Pausing, Kuroro took the chance to look around the giant space they had stepped into. Once, the foyer they were standing in had been a grand example of Baroque architecture. The twin stairs swooping up were beautiful, intricate pieces of art carved out from marble. The walls were lined with elaborate golden carvings laid into the same white marble of the stairs. The gorgeous domed ceiling was covered entirely with lovely paintings of angels, wings spread, tunics flying, as they swooped around the bright blue sky of the ceiling.

However, at some point recently, someone had plopped a large, buffet table made of plain steel and lined with gold tinsel in the middle of the foyer. A giant disco ball covered the ceiling, cutting off the head of an angel and the torso of another. Techno music blared out from black speakers hanging between the golden carvings on the walls.

"Oh the horror," Kuroro whispered, cringing at the devastation done to the well-preserved architecture.

"You should wait till you see what Armando Basilio has done to the inner rooms," Midoya whispered back. "At least the destruction here is reversible."

Kuroro shuddered at that and spent a couple of seconds imagining the horrible things he would do to Armando Basilio once they caught him. Eventually, Midoya's tugging on his arm reminded him that he had a job to do, so he followed her as she subtly manoeuvred him around the edges of the foyer.

"What are we doing now?" Kuroro asked as Midoya handed him a flute of champagne.

"Mingling," Midoya replied softly. "It would be too suspicious if we didn't mingle a little. These balls are not just for showing off, they are also networking opportunities and…" They broke through the crowd suddenly to find the centre the foyer occupied entirely by naked people of various genders rolling about in a mud pit, "places for free, dubious entertainment," Midoya finished with a polite little cough.

"I see," Kuroro agreed. "I do understand why rolling in mud is a rather dubious form of entertainment. Is seems more like something boars would like. Is it truly as appealing for humans?"

"I'm sure I have something like that in at least one of my brothels. You can check it out there."

"Do I have to pay? Why do you have a mud pit in your brothel? Do you own a lot of pigs? Can we have pork chops for dinner then? Can I _not_ pay?"

Midoya gave him an amused and exasperated look and dragged him away from watching the poor, naked people rub mud on their bodies. To chase away flies and prevent sunburn, he assumed. At least, that's what rhinoceros and elephants use mud for. It seemed rather hard to get sunburn in the evening and under a concrete roof though.

Just as he was busy wondering whether there had been any new studies about the impact of UV rays through concrete buildings, a hand reached out and touched his elbow. "_Bonsoir_, _monsieur_," a smoky, exotic, heavily-accented voice said from behind him. "What a lovely tie you are wearing tonight."

Taking his time, Kuroro turned around to look blandly at the speaker behind him. A beautiful woman, tall and regal, greeted him with a ruby-red smile. A mass of blonde hair was piled into a simple, chic bun. A slender, toned body fit into an elegant emerald green full-length sheath dress. Twinkly, expensive-looking jewellery sparkled subtly at her ears and neck, and almost drove Kuroro insane with the need to rob her blind. "Good evening," Kuroro said, bowing over an offered gloved hand (just managing to stop himself from slipping her diamond ring off her finger). "I thank you for the compliment, beautiful lady. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to?"

"Clemence Priduex," the woman replied, smiling at him. "Head of the House of Priduex, York Shin."

"Enrico Federico," Kuroro replied, aware of Midoya discreetly stepping behind him and out of sight, "First Cousin to the Head of the House of Federico, York Shin."

"Ah, a cousin of dear Eugenio," Priduex said, bright green eyes eyeing him carefully. "I have had the pleasure of meeting your esteemed cousin. He looked so much like his equally esteemed father. I… fail to see your family resemblance to the elder and long-gone Federico, I'm afraid."

Kuroro was about to reply when he felt Midoya tap his back in a series of patterns. _She is suggesting you are illegitimate. Insult_. Ah, the ever so trustworthy Morse code; much easier to understand than the codes of social etiquette in these scenes. "My father," Kuroro replied stiffly, "resembled his mother more, while Eugenio's father resembles our grandfather. I assure you though, that the same Federico traits run in our genes." He smiled coldly. "Ruthlessness, good-looks and the mysterious ability to make a lot of money."

Priduex barely batted a heavily-mascaraed lash. "_Du calme_, _du calme_, Monsier Federico. I meant no harm. Forgive me if I ah… spoke out of turn," she purred, sounding quite unrepentant. "So, what brings you to Agocchi, Monsieur Federico?"

"A business venture," Kuroro told her, now drawing heavily from the material Midoya had given to him. "You might recall that my cousin, dear Eugenio, has recently bought over the… pharmaceutical trade in East York Shin." Translation: Eugenio Federico had killed the drug lords of East York Shin in open street warfare and had taken over their businesses.

"I have heard of that," Priduex murmured, inclining her head gracefully. "My congratulations to _les braves_ Eugenio."

"I thank you on his behalf," Kuroro answered. "Though I must confess, dear Eugenio has gotten bored so quickly after the conquest of East York Shin that he is raring to have a go at another market." He smiled mysteriously. "I've heard that the pharmaceutical industry in Agocchi is very… profitable and Eugenio would like me to confirm that."

"Ah." Her smile took on a slightly feral quality. "Is this going to be a… how should we say this… soft intervention or a hard intervention?"

_Soft_. "Soft," Kuroro repeated obediently and had absolutely no idea what that meant.

"_Intéressant_," she purred, sipping her champagne. Then to Kuroro's bemusement, she turned to her right and murmured, "_Mon amour_, you were right. This man is absolutely fascinating. I shall always wonder how you can tell just by looking at people."

A chill ran down Kuroro's spine as he felt someone release Zetsu and step up to him. A familiar Nen caressed his skin, as sickly sweet as candy, and as salty as blood.

"I can always tell, my dearest," an equally familiar and equally sickening voice purred, "the interesting ones always give off… a vibe."

Kuroro felt Midoya tense up from behind him as a tall, pale man stepped up to them. Broad shoulders, thin waist, expensive suit and bright crimson hair flopping over killer cheekbones. And that awful, _awful_ Nen flooding over them like chocolate drenched in blood.

Hisoka.

* * *

The car speeding along the night roads of Agocchi had, by the time it ran the tenth red light, caused about three accidents. A quintet of police cars were blazing after it, sirens blaring and lights flashing. The occupants of the car could hardly care less.

"Those cops are lousy drivers," Kalluto commented idly as one of the police cars lost control and ended up crashing into the road shoulder.

"It's because I'm an excellent driver," Machi countered as she stomped on the accelerator, zooming through the traffic jam like a true professional robber.

"Well, we can't deny that," Nobunaga granted grudgingly as another police car crashed and exploded behind them.

Machi nodded with a pleased air and ran her eleventh red light.

"Say Franklin," Phinx said from the front passenger seat. "You think our plan will work?"

Franklin, occupying most of the backseat, shrugged. "It's as good a plan as any," he said. "We need to find Dancho, and since we know Dancho is going after Armando Basilio, if we go to where Armando Basilio is, we have a higher chance of finding Dancho there. The logic is sound. No idea about the implementation of the concept though."

"It's the best we got," Machi agreed coolly. "The best we can come up with."

"This is why we are normally assigned the brute work while Dancho and Shalnark do the thinking," Kalluto murmured softly.

"True." Phinx nodded sagely then blinked with realisation. "Did you just say we're dumb?" he asked accusingly.

"Kalluto," Franklin interrupted before Phinx could get violent, "if we get you close enough to where Dancho is, will you be able to locate him?"

"Yes," Kalluto replied confidently. ("Show off," Phinx muttered.)

"Good," Franklin replied with a solemn nod. "Then there's only one thing left to do."

"Oh yes," Machi agreed, smirking. "Crashing Armando Basilio's ball. I heard they usually have nude waiters there. That sounds fucking interesting if you ask me…"

* * *

The pale face, usually painted with odd symbols and shapes, but now normal, even coldly handsome without makeup, smirked at his surprise. Kuroro took a subtle deep breath to keep his Nen stable and smiled back, even as his mind started to race through all the different things that could go wrong.

After the fifty-seventh item, he stopped. Hisoka was here. That meant things were far more dangerous and far less likely to follow the plan in innumerable ways. There was no point fretting about it.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Federico," Hisoka purred, somehow making the greeting sound both like a threat and a very sleazy promise. "My name is Hisoka, escort to the lovely Lady Priduex."

"Pleasure," Kuroro said calmly and even managed to shake Hisoka's hand without shuddering. The last time he had touched those hands, they had just made a nice, big hole in his stomach. He had very bad memories of those hands.

"And who is this lovely lady here?" Hisoka asked, eyes glittering maliciously, as he deliberately edged closer to Kuroro so he could look over his shoulder. Of course he had recognised Midoya. Of course he had seen that Midoya was trying not to be recognised. So of course, he would do his best to draw attention to her.

"Misha, introduce yourself," Kuroro ordered evenly.

With the kind of timid grace that would have endeared her to some men, Midoya stepped out from behind him. While hiding behind him, she had pulled more of her blonde fringe down so it covered almost half of her face. "Good evening, Lady Priduex, Mr Hisoka," she murmured with a pretty curtsy. "I am Misha, escort to Mr Federico."

"Oh, what a _petit_ _poupée_," Priduex said, as if she were complimenting the weather. "So shy, so… _mon amour_, what is that word I am thinking of… so _mignon_… ah yes. So cute." She couldn't have sounded more condescending if she had tried.

"_Merci beaucoup_,Lady Priduex," Midoya murmured and Priduex's red lips made a startled 'o', evidently surprised Midoya knew any French. Kuroro was impressed himself until he remembered that Midoya's education had probably cost more than the small fortune he had amassed for himself over the years, and that her appearance now was a total lie.

"Indeed, what a pretty little doll," Hisoka leered, leaning closer to Midoya. "It is a _true_ pleasure to meet you." Smiling widely, he leaned over her hand and deliberately kissed the top of her hand, slowly, sensually, as if he had rather be sucking her hand than kissing it.

As Hisoka leaned closer to them, Kuroro caught a whiff of the oddly familiar smell of… roses? Where had he smelled that before? The last time he fought Hisoka? No. He had smelt it much more recently. Where…? Before he could set his mind to it, Priduex stepped forward and practically yanked Hisoka back to her side. "Tsk, _ma cherie_," she scolded, her eyes blazing coldly. "You shouldn't intrude on Mr Federico's property."

"_Oui_, _mon coeur_. It is as you said," Hisoka purred, and Kuroro looked away so he wouldn't have to watch the two of them do grossly intimate things in front of them. Was it really necessary to use that much tongue when kissing? Wasn't it unpleasantly wet and intrusive… what on earth were they…? Oh, how _revolting_.

As he turned to look at Midoya (a much more palatable sight), the lights in the foyer clicked off suddenly. Startled gasps and shouts rose in the darkness before a bright, clear voice assured the crowd that this was part of the event and that they were to stand still till the lights came on again.

"And now," the same voice declared, "Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome our host for the evening, Mr Armando Basilio."

A spot light clicked on and focused on the second floor balcony overlooking the foyer. A strikingly handsome man stood there, almost model-like in his appearance with his broad shoulders, lean build, piercing green eyes and high cheekbones. Though he differed slightly from the photo Kuroro had seen, Kuroro still recognised him immediately.

Armando Basilio. Their prey.

"Good evening, ladies and gentleman," Armando Basilio said, his voice rich and cultured and very attractive. "I am Armando Basilio, Head of the Basilio Family. To start off, I would like to thank everyone for coming here today. I see so many familiar faces, such as the always boisterous David Hooper, oddly enough, Head of the Claramax family…" Someone laughed "and my beautiful cousin, the lovely Clemence Priduex, Head of the Priduex Family." Kuroro blinked as the woman standing next to him offered a little bow to the man above them. Well, now that he knew, the family resemblance_ was_ pretty obvious.

"And of course," the speaker continued, "there are so many new friends here. New… allies." Armando Basilio looked around with the satisfied air of a king surveying his court. "Tonight," he said, "we come together not just to celebrate good food and beautiful people." He nodded chummily at the mud pit and some people laughed. "Tonight, I wish for all of you, my esteemed guests, to bear witness to the greatest moment in the history of the Basilio family."

"Misha," Kuroro said quietly and felt Midoya nod tensely.

"Tonight," Armando Basilio said, "I will reveal to you a new treasure that I have found, a treasure of immense power that will open the York Shin market to the Basilio family." Gasps and cries of disbelief filled the air. "Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I assure you I do not lie." Armando Basilio smiled widely. "I have obtained, as I swore I would, the Infinity Gem."

Midoya tugged Kuroro's sleeve. "Now," she whispered urgently, her voice buried by the hushed whispers around them. "We go now. He wouldn't reveal the Gem till much later. We need to search for it now."

Kuroro nodded as Armando Basilio continued his speech with some grandiose declaration about conquering York Shin. "Alright," he agreed. "Let's go."

"Where?" Hisoka purred in his ear, hot breath tickling his skin, and Kuroro froze.

"Somewhere you are not welcomed, Hisoka," Midoya murmured firmly, and even in the darkness, Kuroro saw the glint of a weapon held to Hisoka's stomach. "Move."

"But this is so much fun," Hisoka whispered, his Nen starting to swell with excitement. "My dear little… Misha. How pretty you look today, how sweet and delicious. But black doesn't suit you. Red does. Beautiful, sweet, _wet_ red." His tongue sneaked out and he deliberately licked her neck.

Midoya didn't blink. She didn't even flinch. She just calmly, firmly put the blade straight through Hisoka's thigh.

Hisoka's jaw dropped in surprise and Kuroro tensed up for a fight. It really wasn't a good idea to attack Hisoka like that. Kuroro knew from experience that he would only get more aroused by the pain and the…

"If you let us pass now without interfering," Midoya murmured, "there will be more where that came from."

For a moment, Kuroro thought he had misheard. Surely, she meant to threaten him, not bribe him with that stab…? But Hisoka thrust his hips forward, digging the blade deeper into his flesh, and moaned, "Oh, you naughty _tease_. Alright… I hold you to that promise." His moans got louder as Midoya pulled the blade out. "Oh… ohhhh… I want _more_," he groaned, proving that somehow, Midoya had much clearer insight into Hisoka's mind than Kuroro ever had.

"Later, I will stab you full of holes," Midoya promised and grabbed Kuroro's hand to pull him around Hisoka. Hisoka whimpered with thwarted pleasure but didn't stop them.

"I'll hold you to it," he whispered, feverishly bright eyes glowing at them, and they were past him.

Kuroro kept his eye on Hisoka all the way until they reached a dark corridor. When he was finally certain Hisoka was going to keep his word, he murmured, "Smart girl. I should have thought of that when he was still in the Ryodan. I mean, pretending to be in the Ryodan."

"Don't beat yourself up over it," Midoya replied as she led him further down the corridor, "you don't own a S&M brothel. It's not likely a tactic like that would have occurred to you."

"That is an accurate assessment, and I never beat myself up over things," Kuroro told her.

"Good for you," Midoya smiled. "Stop for a while please."

They paused right before the next turn and Midoya started to strip, pulling off her dress to reveal a much more practical outfit of black tube-top and black tights beneath her dress. Kuroro watched the entire proceeding with great interest.

With a sigh of relief, she kicked off her heels and bounced gently on bare feet. "They will be much more convenient than heels," she told him.

"An excellent turn of events," Kuroro acknowledged. Since she wasn't doing anything particularly interesting anymore, Kuroro took a good look around the corridor they were standing in. Like the foyer, it was decorated mainly in the baroque style, with white walls covered with complex, intricate designs. As if someone had thought the designs and statues were too plain, paintings were placed in strategic intervals along the corridor next to carved statues of naked human beings. Intrigued, Kuroro drew closer to one of the paintings and peered at it.

In the dark, a loud gasp echoed down the corridor.

Midoya jumped a little, obviously startled and looked around. "Kuroro? Was that you?" she questioned, turning to him. "Wh…" The words died off in her lips as she stared at him.

Before her eyes, the great Dancho of the Genei Ryodan pulled a five inch by ten inch painting off the wall, frame and all, eyes glowing blue in the dark as he stroked the frame of the painting reverently.

"Kuroro?" Midoya whispered cautiously, approaching him slowly. "Is that… is that uh… an expensive painting?"

"Better," Kuroro whispered back, his eyes glowing in the dark.

"Better than an expensive painting?"

"Infinitely better."

"What is it?" Midoya asked.

Kuroro felt his lips turn up at the corner in a triumphant smile as he whispered, "It's a Screw-up."

* * *

Prodigious Screw had been a master artist born in the nineteenth-century in the rich, renaissance town of Cordiya. Like most young men born in Coridya, he had been extremely influenced by the Arts, specifically Realism art. Hence, from a very young age, he started devoting his time and energy to mastering the art of painting realistically. He learned how to mix the paints, how to wield the brush, how to prime the canvas. He acquired an eye for detail, for light and shadow and for the beauty of the real world. Many an hour was spent sitting in the garden, painting beautiful women or bowls of fruit.

By the time he was fifteen, he was famous, world-renowned as the worst artist in the history of Cordiya.

That his utter inability to paint realistically should have brought him fame was an odd story indeed. It wasn't that he was bad at painting, for he had quite the talent for painting an apple that looked exactly like an apple. The problem was that he was infamous for making crucial mistakes that destroyed the _realism_ of the paintings entirely. In one case, while painting a bowl of fruit, he forgot to paint the bowl, causing the fruit to appear to float, quite unrealistically, over a table. In another, when painting the Duchess of Cordiya, he accidentally drew a black line across her face, making it look like someone had crossed out her face. In yet another, he painted a beautiful picture of a garden, only to spill white paint over it, rendering the canvas blank, as if it had never been painted.

These mistakes, ironically, were what made him famous for _they could not be replicated_. Yes, it was possible to draw a bunch of fruit floating over a table, but that wouldn't be a mistake: it would be a deliberate drawing of fruit floating over a table. Yes, it was possible to pour white paint over a picture of a garden, but that wouldn't be the same as _spilling_ white paint over a picture of a garden. These works, the well-respected and intelligent art critics realised, were _truly unique in their existence_.

It was instant fame for Prodigious Screw, as his Screw-ups started to sell at a much faster rate than his Non-Screw-ups. His painting of a cute rabbit with a drop of green on its realistic white fur sold for a hundred zenni, a fortune for his time. His perfect rendition of his dog, Marius, running in the sun had no buyers. People started to pay to watch him paint, so they could, at dining tables, declare proudly, "I was there when Prodigious Screw accidentally painted the Duke of Cordiya with breasts."

However, with age, Prodigious Screw's technique flourished. He got better with handling the brush, and more meticulous when it came to detail. And the better he got at painting, the fewer mistakes he made. By the age of twenty-five, Prodigious Screw hadn't produced a proper Screw-up in a year. Buyers started to forget about him. Art critics labelled him 'so last season'. Marius eloped with a cocker spaniel. Poverty followed shortly after, as his decent realist art got lost in a sea of other decent realist art.

Thus, at age twenty-six, Prodigious Screw took a calming cup of tea in the cellar he called home, and slit his own throat. His suicide note read, "I am nothing if I cannot Screw-up."

The cup of tea, now accidentally splashed with arterial spray, sold for three hundred zennis in the art market, and was proclaimed his best work ever.

* * *

"It's a blank canvas," Midoya said slowly. "Kuroro, you are holding a blank canvas."

"It's an irreplaceable Screw-up," Kuroro corrected. "The only one of its kind in the world."

"A Screw-up? You must mean Prodigious Screw," Midoya repeated, her eyebrow raised. "I never knew you were a fan."

"The worst artist in the history of Cordiya? How could I not be a fan?"

"And you critique my taste in music," Midoya snorted.

Kuroro chuckled as he admired the painting. "It's wonderful," he told her, as they continued down the corridor, "a testimony to the utterly pathetic, painfully bumbling nature of human beings. I cannot help but adore it – until I eventually get bored with it and sell it, of course. But for now, this is a lovely addition to my little store of stolen goods."

"You are obsessive," Midoya commented fondly.

"And you're blonde," Kuroro replied, which Midoya solved by pulling off her wig. Her natural hair exploded out of the wig in a puff of frizzy, messy curls. She raised her eyebrow at him and he inclined his head in recognition of her point.

"Let's go," Midoya said, smiling at him. "Put your precious Screw-up somewhere safe. We're going to break into the Basilio vault."

"In a moment. I wish to admire it more," Kuroro told her. He did have a tendency to get quite touchy-feely with newly acquired stolen goods. Besides, he thought, it was small enough to fit under his blazer if he needed to free his hands in a hurry. Ah, pint-sized art; he had much to thank Prodigious for, other than his wonderful Screw-ups.

"Have it your way," Midoya sighed. "Come on. The vault is in Basilio's bedroom. The Gem will be there."

"Lead on," Kuroro said happily and followed behind her as she led them through the halls of the Basilio mansion.

* * *

The mansion was in full swing by the time the Ryodan members arrived at the ball. Music was thumping loudly, bright strobe lights blazed through the air, well-dressed people were dancing and drinking, and many naked people were walking around doing serving drinks.

"Tasteless and crude," Nobunaga commented, as the Ryodan members perched on the outer walls of the mansion and stared at the mass of people doing borderline illegal things to each other.

"Yeah, but Meteor City can do much worse," Phinx said defensively.

"But of course," Nobunaga replied with great patriotism. "We're the best when it comes to being tasteless and crude."

"I don't know," Kalluto mused from behind them. "Dancho doesn't strike me as being tasteless and crude."

"Of course he's not," Nobunaga interrupted, looking stricken, "if Meteor City is the biggest fucking cess pit in the world, Dancho is the lone lotus flower that bloomed from all the shit. He is _way_ above all the crud that Meteor City is, even if he never forgets his roots."

"I don't know, Nobunaga. I don't think Dancho will like being compared to a pansy flower," Phinx said dubiously.

"_Or_," Machi added thoughtfully, "he will like it so much he will write a fifty thousand word treatise on the connection between flowers, shit and the history of philosophy in the Eastern hemisphere of the world. And then he will spend the next two years talking about nothing _but_ that."

"Oh yeah" Phinx groaned, remembering with no great fondness the last time Dancho had gotten inspired to write a treatise. It had been a bad year, that year, a _very_ bad year.

Franklin cleared his throat meaningfully. "All this is very interesting," he said blandly, "but we still need to find Dancho."

"Right." Phinx nodded. "Okay, Kalluto. You're up."

"Okay." From a sleeve, Kalluto pulled out a piece of paper. He then stopped and glared at them. "Look away."

Phinx blinked. "What?" he demanded.

Kalluto eyed him over the piece of paper. "Look away," he repeated, "it's not polite to stare when a lady is doing something private."

Phinx's jaw dropped and he started to splutter, but Franklin put a heavy hand on his shoulder and turned him around. "Good enough?"

"Everybody turns around," Kalluto said emphatically. "My goodness, it is so hard working with men. They always think they have a right to stare just because you are wearing a kimono."

"I'm not a man," Machi protested.

"Prove it," Kalluto sniffed.

Now Machi eyebrow had gone up and Nobunaga was growling angrily, so Franklin physically turned them around as well. "Alright now?" he rumbled, putting a hand on Nobunaga to restrain him from zipping towards Kalluto. "Remember the mission," he said quietly, and Nobunaga stilled, though his aura shimmered with irritation.

"Yes." Kalluto nodded, eyes glittering with impish delight. "Now, no peeking, or I'll tell Dancho you tried to touch my breasts."

"You don't have any breasts…" Nobunaga muttered and Franklin patted him sympathetically on his shoulder.

As the four Spiders stared with varying degrees of grumpiness into space, Kalluto's Nen swelled gently behind them. Tiny voices, vaguely familiar, started to squeak from behind.

"Is that Dancho's voice?" Nobunaga wondered.

"I said no peeking," Kalluto snapped sharply.

"I wasn't!" Nobunaga protested. "I can _hear_ what you're doing."

"Then cover your ears," Kalluto ordered brusquely.

"I fucking hate you," Nobunaga growled. Grumbling and threatening violence, the four Spiders clamped their hands over their ears and stared moodily into the darkness.

After a while, Kalluto's Nen settled back to its usual level and he tapped Franklin on his arm. "I'm done," he said as the Spiders turned around.

"What'd you got?" Phinx growled menacingly.

"Dancho is in the mansion heading towards the Basilio vault," Kalluto reported, somehow looking down his nose at Phinx. "Kito is with him. They think the Infinity Gem is in the vault."

"Alright then," Machi said impatiently. "Let's go."

And a calm, female voice said, "I don't think so."

The reaction among the Ryodan was instantaneous. Like startled cats, they immediately darted to the nearest open space, Nen swelling in preparation for battle.

A woman stood before them, tall, blonde, athletic, and gorgeous as hell. She was also wearing a super short white skirt, a too-tight white dress top, a sailor's hat and a massive claymore.

"That is an image out of a RPG fan's wet dream. If Shalnark were here, he would have a geek-gasm," Machi commented bluntly as the five of them fanned out, watching the woman carefully.

"How disgusting," Kalluto murmured, fan pressed against his lips.

"Who are you?" Franklin asked, ignoring the banter.

The woman smirked at them, leaning casually on one hip, the massive claymore slung carelessly over her shoulder. "Kikita Timbal, Poacher Hunter," she replied easily.

"Timbal? Like Pepeka Timbal?" Nobunaga exclaimed, astonished.

"His older sister," the woman acknowledged, swinging the claymore easily with one hand. "And the five of you are Ryodan members."

"So what?" Phinx demanded, fists clenching and unclenching in anticipation. "You got something against the Ryodan?"

Full, pink lips pursed in thought. "Hardly," she said with a shrug. "I'm just doing Midoya a favour."

At that, the Ryodan members tensed up even more. "And what favour would that be?" Phinx snarled. "What's Kito planning. Talk, woman."

Kikita Timbal chuckled softly though her eyes were fierce and wild. "I've always hated Neanderthals," she sighed. "Fucking humans that got stuck during the evolution between apes and proper humans. Never know why some women go for shit-faces like that. It ain't right when humans and beasts get down and dirty together." Her grin widened as Phinx's Nen started to flare with rage. "Midoya thinks you guys already know what she's up to," she said, still grinning widely. "Midoya is pretty fucking smart, so I'm going to take a stab in the dark and guess you guys already know she's up to no good – at least no good for you and your Dancho."

Though they had expected it, the confirmation still startled them. Franklin could feel it in the Nen shimmering around him. So could the woman, evidently, because she raised an eyebrow and added, "So you didn't know at all? Well, fuck my brains out, it's rare Midoya gets stuff wrong like that."

"Not entirely," Franklin rumbled. "We have a pretty good idea of what she's really doing here, but that's not important. Our Dancho is important. We want to know what she has planned for him."

"Ah, but see, that's the problem." The woman beamed. "I can't tell you what she has planned, but I do know it wouldn't be a good idea for us if you guys meet up with Kuroro now. He still doesn't know shit is going down, and it's best if things are kept that way. What's that thing Midoya always says? Ignorance is the shortest path to eternal rest at the bottom of a very deep lake or some philosophical shit like that."

Now the Nen swirling around the Ryodan members was hot with rage. "Are you threatening us?" Nobunaga growled. "Are you threatening Dancho?"

"Nope!" the woman replied cheerfully. "Just saying things like I see them."

"Fuck you, bitch!" Nobunaga roared. "You guys go ahead! I'll take care of this bitch."

"Got it," Machi acknowledged and the four of them leapt forward, aiming to run past their enemy before she could react.

At the last moment, just before they were past Kikita Timbal, she swept the claymore in a powerful, massive arc. Phinx and Machi leapt over the swing while Kalluto dived under. Franklin, barely out of range, pounded past, his sleeve torn and arm bleeding. And even though they were past her, her Nen, blazing and hot, chased them through the gardens and exploded over part of the mansion. The mafia thugs at the ball started to scream and panic. A portion of the mansion wall disintegrated.

Nobunaga stared. Nobunaga blinked. Nobunaga went 'wow' in his head.

"Fuck me, they got through," she muttered. "You got that? Four of them got through. They're heading towards the East Wing of the mansion." Something buzzed in the silence and she nodded briskly. "Alright then," she said, grinning at Nobunaga. "It's you and me baby."

Nobunaga cleared his throat. "Um. Just one question… Miss."

A delicate eyebrow went up. "What?" she demanded.

"Uh…" Nobunaga coughed again. "Are you Reinforcement?"

Kikita Timbal stared even harder. "What of it?" she finally asked. "You're Reinforcement too, aren't you? You got a problem with that?"

"Oh, nothing," Nobunaga mumbled.

But even as he drew his sword and faced Kikita Timbal, he fell madly, deeply in love with her.

* * *

When the explosion came, Kuroro was in the Basilio vault, bent almost in half over a box within the vault, holding a huge flashlight Midoya had produced from nowhere while Midoya she at the lock with a series of thin, skeletal lock-picks.

As it turned out, travelling through the Basilio mansion had gone incredibly well. Most of the security detail had been at the ball itself and in the vault. It had astounded Kuroro when, after walking through empty corridors for almost half an hour, they had walked into Basilio's bedroom to find the vault open and filled with guards. It seemed Basilio had thought that the guards were a sufficient deterrent and it was unnecessary to lock the vault.

Oh, the grand, bumbling idiocy of humanity, Kuroro had sighed, as he gave Prodigious Screw's masterpiece one last loving stroke and slid it into his blazer pocket before dodging the variety of bullets fired at him.

Fifteen minutes later, they had wiped out the rest of Basilio's mercenaries and all the guards he had posted in the vault. Then they were in.

Immediately, Kuroro had put a hand on Midoya's shoulder to steady himself as he stared at the massive room full of beautiful, _beautiful_ treasures.

"Midoya, I feel the pressing need to rob this place clean," Kuroro had told Midoya as he admired a lovely sculpture that was probably close to a thousand year old.

"Later, dear," Midoya had replied. "Help me find the Infinity Gem."

"Alright," Kuroro agreed, since Midoya was much better at prioritising than he was, when surrounded by stolen goods.

However, in the end, she hadn't needed his help. The Infinity Gem turned out to be sitting in a locked glass box conveniently labelled 'Infinity Gem'. In fact, it was in such a conspicuous place, even the ever-meticulous Midoya had looked over it three times before they spotted it.

"Is that it?" Kuroro had asked dubiously.

"Yes," Midoya confirmed.

"Oh. It's smaller than it looks in the photograph you showed me."

"That's what she said," Midoya told him with the saddest look on her face.

"So how do we get it out?" Kuroro asked, ignoring her mock puppy eyes.

"Ah. That's the question."

It turned out, after some careful examination, that the glass box the gem was in was made of Nen-resistant, very tough material that wasn't actually glass but did resemble it to a startling degree. There was no way they could smash through the box, so they had to rely on the good old-fashion way of picking the lock on the box. That was how Kuroro ended up holding the flashlight for Midoya as she fiddled patiently with the complicated lock system on the glass box. In a very short amount of time, Kuroro discovered that holding a flashlight while someone else picks a lock is an extremely boring activity. So he had taken to staring at the Infinity Gem that sat within the glass box.

Truth be told, despite the size of it, Kuroro thought that the gem was a very lovely one. Cut into a perfect oval, the diameter of which was barely half an inch, the Gem was obviously a masterpiece of artistry. It was, furthermore, set in an elaborate silver necklace encrusted with tiny diamonds that sparkled hypnotically under the flashlight. All in all, it made for a very extravagant and very beautiful piece of jewellery.

Kuroro tilted the flashlight back and forth, and watched the sapphire change from blue to purple to red. Three colours, just as Midoya had said. It really was a very beautiful gem. It would look good in the personal collection of trinkets he had collected over the years.

"Stop fidgeting," Midoya scolded and Kuroro stopped moving.

"Are you close?" he asked instead.

"Just a bit more," Midoya murmured, "and if you start saying 'Are you done yet', I will _bite_ you."

Kuroro made a disapproving sound and said, "Don't learn from Hisoka; he is a horrible role model", but stopped after tha because the moment he finished his comment, an explosion rocked the entire mansion, sending tremors throughout the entire building.

Startled, Midoya looked up and Kuroro joined her. "That was…" Midoya began hesitantly, and he saw her eyes narrow the way they did when she had noticed something she didn't like.

"That was Kikita, was it not?" Kuroro asked. "I recognised her Nen. What is she doing?"

"No matter," Midoya replied tensely. "Let's get the Infinity Gem first."

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you she would be trouble," Kuroro told her as Midoya started to work even faster at the locks, nimble fingers manipulating the delicate instruments with great skill.

Footsteps resounded down the corridor, and Kuroro looked over his shoulder. The Nen coming his way was unfamiliar. "Visitors," he noted. "I'm going to…"

"Hold the flashlight properly," Midoya said sternly and Kuroro looked at her in surprise.

"Midoya? Are you… are you actually… anxious?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yes," Midoya replied edgily.

The footsteps came closer and Kuroro frowned over his shoulder at the door. Switching the flashlight to his left hand, he drew out his Benz knife in preparation for a fight. "You should hurry," he told her calmly.

"Almost there," Midoya muttered under her breath.

The footsteps were right at the door now. "Guards!" a familiar voice shouted and Armando Basilio appeared at the entrance of the vault, perspiring heavily. "Guards! Is the… who are you?"

"Hello," Kuroro greeted pleasantly. Rather unusually, Midoya ignored the newcomer.

"What the fuck!" Armando Basilio cursed. "Get out of my vault!"

"Or what?" Kuroro asked conversationally.

"Or I will kill you," Armando Basilio snarled just as something clicked.

"Got it," Midoya said, opening the box and taking the necklace out.

Armando Basilio's handsome face turned a brilliant red. "Put that down you…!" his voice died off as Midoya turned to face him and his eyes widened as his face took on an expression of pure disbelief and surprise.

"Hello," Midoya said calmly.

"What the fuck?" Basilio demanded. "Aunt Kito? What are you doing here?"

Aunt Kito? Now it was Kuroro's turn to stare at Midoya. "M… June?" he asked, having just enough presence of mind to realise Midoya wouldn't want him to use her Hunter name here.

Midoya beamed pleasantly. "Kuroro darling, meet Armando Basilio. He's my nephew. Or cousin. Or great-grand cousin twice removed. He might also be my brother-in-law, but I am not too sure about that because his wife may or may not actually be my half-sister. It is possible she is an eighth my sister though. It's terribly confusing that. We are really much too inbred." She paused then continued, "Armando dear, this is Kuroro Lucifer, Dancho of the Genei Ryodan."

"Genei Ryodan?" Basilio spluttered. "What the fuck is going on, Aunt Kito?"

"Well," Midoya said slowly, as if speaking to a child, "I am taking the Infinity Gem from you, and I have teamed up with the Genei Ryodan to kill you. You really shouldn't have attacked them like that. Not smart, dear, not smart."

"I concur with June," Kuroro said, since he felt his input as a victim of Basilio's stupidity was needed.

"But Auntie…" Basilio stared, his eyes softening with confusion. "You are the one who told me to attack the Genei Ryodan. You are the one who told me _they knew where the Gem is_!"

And suddenly all kinds of pieces fell into place, making for a nasty, _horrible_ picture. Kuroro whipped his head to look at Midoya, just as her hand closed around his right wrist in a tight grip that forced him to keep the Benz by his side and away from her.

"Catch," she said softly.

The flashlight dropped as Kuroro instinctively caught, with his left hand, the object she had thrown at him. In the tumbling light of the rolling flashlight, he saw clearly what she had passed to him.

A tampon.

For the briefest moment, Kuroro's wide, shocked eyes met hers and she smiled at him from the entrance of the vault, a friendly, pleasant smile. "Toodles, Kuroro," she said sweetly and slammed the vault door shut.

A split second later, the tampon exploded.

* * *

A/N: Oh, I was _so_ excited to get this chapter out! From now on, things are going to get so exciting! And I remember someone requested that Hisoka appear in this story, so this is for you! Hope you liked it!

I can't wait to get the next chapter out next week! Maybe I'll get it out even sooner since I'm so fired up. We shall see. Till then, dear readers!

Trivial: Though Midoya wasn't too impressed with Prodigious Screw's epic masterworks, she _was_ appreciative of art that showed the bumbling idiocy of humanity. Her favourite artist of that particular type was, in fact, a nephew and avid admirer of Prodigious Screw: Thou-Shalt-Not-Commit-Adultery Screw, commonly known as Adultery Screw.

Adultery Screw had, in fact, achieved a similar fame to Prodigious Screw, but for entirely different reasons. As a young artist, in his bid to follow his uncle's pioneering efforts in the field of Art, Adultery Screw had tried multiple times to 'screw-up' his art works. However, due to his immense talent in the field of painting, he failed to make any truly note-worthy mistakes. If he had been of a lesser mettle, Adultery Screw would have sunk into a deep depression and joined his uncle in the afterlife. However, Adultery Screw turned out to be a much more resilient man than his uncle, and he continued to persevere at his efforts.

Eventually, the brilliant mind of Adultery Screw came up with the most ingenious of ideas. If he could not paint mistakes the _normal_ way, surely the best thing to do would be to paint under circumstances where he would be most likely to make a mistake? With that brilliant idea in mind, Adultery Screw had set about making the act of painting more complicated than it normally is.

First, he started off with blindfolding himself while he painted his wife. The resulting painting, with her face drawn onto her belly (which was drawn below her feet), sold for ten zennis to a businessman. Encouraged by this, Adultery Screw decided to push things further and make his painting environment even more hostile. In the following week, he frayed his brushes, poked holes in his palettes and tore off the labels on his paint pots.

However, that was not enough for Adultery Screw. As a pioneering artist in the field of Screw-ups, Adultery Screw felt he could and should push things even further. What were artists after all, but adventurers and pioneers of the uncharted land that is the human mind?

Finally, one bright and early morning, the city of Coridya awoke to the sight of a large canvas spread across the entire market square. High above that, someone had attached a tight-rope that stretched from the top of the mayor's house, across the market square, to the top of the church. Standing on the top of the mayor's house and holding a bucket of paint was the increasingly famous Adultery Screw. As the crowd gathered, Adultery Screw announced that he was going to paint the most epic Screw-up yet. Over the course of the next hour, he intended to pace up and down the tight-rope, holding a can of paint in each hand. His goal was to make sure the paint stayed in the can. However, due to the nature of the walk, the paint would, he hoped, drip onto the canvas in random drops and splatters, thus creating an entire canvas of mistakes. The resulting painting, he declared, would be the most beautiful Screw-up ever created. The crowd applauded his declaration and settled down to watch the master artist in action.

Unfortunately, barely half-way across his first round, Adultery Screw lost his footing and fell head first onto his canvas with fatal results.

Two hundred years later, admiring the giant canvas that stood in the hall of the Kito Mansion, Midoya had to admit that Adultery Screw hadn't quite failed at his final work. The resulting splatters, now brown and stiff with age, were truly magnificent.

Trivial Within the Trivial: Adultery Screw had three other siblings. An older brother named Thou-Shalt-Not-Take-The-Name-Of-The-Lord-Thy-God-In-Vain Screw, known commonly as Vain Screw, a younger brother named Remember-The-Sabbath-Day-To-Keep-It-Holy Screw or Holy Screw and a younger sister named Honour-Thy-Father-And-Thy-Mother Screw or Mother Screw.

Up till this date, none of the Screw children have ever forgiven their parents for their names.


	9. Pursuing Midoya

A/N: This is the sequel to A Series of Politically Inappropriate Happenings. This story will be a little different from the previous two (which were quite different from the first installment of The Series). It was inspired by two things: first, a desire to try a slightly different genre other than Humour (a more serious one, one might say) and second, the criticism that Kuroro's relationship with Midoya is a little too perfect.

**To Guest Reviewer**: Thanks for the review! I must admit, because the focus of this story and the next is really about the renegotiation of Kuroro and Midoya's relationship, the Ryodan is kind of meant to be in the background a little. And because at the moment, Kuroro and the Ryodan are reacting to a situation they don't fully understand, they may seem to flounder a little. But, I'll try to maintain the Ryodan's kick-ass-ness as much as is possible without making things too easy for them. They will get their chance to shine later, promise!

Disclaimer:I do not own Hunter X Hunter and all the characters affiliated with the manga/anime. All OCs are mine and mine alone. The views stated by the characters do not always reflect the views of the author either. All characters and settings in this story are fictional.

* * *

Pursuing Midoya

When the second explosion rocked the mansion, Kalluto was almost thrown off his feet. Franklin caught him and put him back on his feet, but before Kalluto could complain, the others had already ran past him and he was forced to catch up with them.

"That was Kito's Nen," Phinx said tensely. "I mean, it felt weird, but it's definitely her Nen."

"Kalluto?" Franklin asked, moving surprisingly fast for a man his size.

"It came from where Dancho is," Kalluto confirmed, glancing at the paper dolls hidden in his hand.

"Fuck," Phinx cursed.

To Kalluto's astonishment, they Ryodan members picked up even more speed, and he pushed himself even harder to catch up with them, refusing to look weak in front of these people. It was really times like this that he was reminded he needed to become stronger than he already was.

"Fuck," Phinx repeated, "fuck. You think Kito did something to Dancho?"

"I think we should hurry," Machi replied coolly, "hurry, and hope we are not too late."

-break-

Just about the time the Ryodan were starting to panic, Hisoka was in one of the guest bedrooms of the mansion, straddling Clemence Priduex and choking the life out of her.

Her hands, long and slender, scratched at his bare arms as she gasped and fought for breath. Her body twisted and turned under his, feeding his arousal. Her legs, long and slender, kicked feebly as she struggled against his strength.

Almost idly, though he was practically drooling with excitement, Hisoka leaned over and licked her face, tasting sweat and cosmetics. "More?" he taunted. "Do you want me to hurt you more?"

"_Oui_," she choked out and bucked her hips against his. "Yes, _mon amour_! More!"

Hisoka shuddered with pleasure and bit her earlobe. She mewled in his ear then reached out and wrapped her hands around his throat. Another shudder ran through his body as he started to gasp for air. Considerately, he leaned over her so she would have less difficulty squeezing the life out of him. Oh _my_. He had always thought bedding Midoya would be like bedding the ultimate sadist, but he personally thought Clemence Priduex would give Midoya quite the run for her money. Within seconds of hitting the bed, she had shredded his shirt and blazer to pieces. Then she had bitten into his neck, leaving a large bleeding wound there. Hisoka had almost lost control right there and then. He was glad he hadn't because now, she was doing the most _decadent_ things to him.

"More," Hisoka moaned breathlessly. "_More_, _ohhhh_."

"Oh, you are dirty," Clemence Priduex choked from beneath him. "_Dirty_."

Hisoka licked his lips and shuddered some more. Damn it, she had to stop. If she continued talking like that, he was going to skip the appetiser and main course, and jump straight to dessert. Hisoka _loved_ dessert. He loved them red and sweet, burning in his mouth as he reached the peak of ultimate pleasure.

Clemence Priduex stopped strangling him. Instead, she reached around and dug her long, sharp nails into his back, leaving deep gorges in their wake.

Hisoka whimpered greedily. Oh the _pain._ That was it. He couldn't take it anymore. He had to have dessert; had to have it now. Sitting up, Hisoka released his hold on her neck and slid a card into his hand. "Do you like magic, Clemence?" he purred.

"Magic?" Clemence Priduex stared groggily up at him. "What are you talking about, _mon amour? _Don't stop. I wish you to continue."

"Alright," Hisoka agreed and sliced the card against her throat.

In the following seconds, Hisoka saw the events as such. When the card came down, Clemence Priduex's lust-dazed eyes widened with shock. Then Nen swelled up from her body, encasing her throat in a thick layer of blazing white light. The card cut skin, drawing blood, but just barely. Before he could react, Clemence Priduex shoved him _hard_, sending him flying through the air until he hit the wall on the other side of the room.

Dazed and still throbbing with arousal, Hisoka sank to the floor, staring at his torn pants with fascination. That was… really nice, _really_ nice. A gentle creak interrupted his thoughts and he looked up to see Clemence Priduex rising from the bed, blanket wrapped around her torso like a toga, and Nen, _powerful_ Nen, blazing like a beacon in the room.

Hisoka licked his lips and climbed to his feet, his own Nen starting to throb in time with the pulse beating below his belly button. Shivering, he slipped the card, wet with her blood into his mouth and sucked it until the card crumpled in his mouth.

"Hisoka, _mon amour_," she said coldly. "You tried to kill me."

"_Oui_," Hisoka agreed, since it would be a pretty obvious lie if he said he hadn't. "I definitely tried to kill you." Smiling at her expression, he licked blood off his lips, shuddering as he did.

"I see," Clemence Priduex said, walking regally towards him, her hips swaying gently. "_Mon amour_." They circled each other, two wild dogs in heat sizing each other up before a fight. "_Why_?"

Hisoka thought hard about it, but could find no good reason not to tell her. So he did.

It had nothing to do with dessert.

* * *

If anyone had thought, at that very moment, to open the vault door of the Basilio vault, they would have been greeted with a strange sight indeed. The first thing they would have noted was that the entire vault was gunpowder black and smelt strongly of burning things. The second thing they would have noticed was the lone man standing in the middle of a mess of debris, his clothing torn and tattered, and his face wearing an expression of stunned disbelief.

That would not be surprising. Kuroro Lucifer, for one of the few times in his life, was having a moment of pure incredulity. Had that just happened? Had he just learned Midoya was the real mastermind before all this? That she had led Armando Basilio to the Ryodan, to _his_ Ryodan? Had she really thrown a tampon at him? Well, of course not. That was obviously a Nen-bomb in disguise. After all, the whole place was blown up like… like a bomb had gone off. It was very innovative of her to disguise the bomb as a tampon, really, Kuroro thought in dazed admiration. Not only will it not set off metal detectors because of the nature of the material, it wouldn't be examined too closely by security guards either. Kuroro applauded her creativity and intelligence.

Slowly, as if in a daze, Kuroro looked around at the priceless artefacts he had just been admiring, now a rather unsightly pile of trash on the floor. Tiny fires had started in the vault, feeding on the flammable material lying around, likely papyrus hundreds of years old. And his clothes… oh, they were torn and tattered, and his blazer was almost gone. His blazer. Oh no, his _blazer_. A sense of dread filled him as he dropped to his knees and started to search the remains of his blazer that had floated to the ground. Oh no… oh _no_…

His hand emerged from a pile of cloth, clutching a handful of scraps – the remains of his Screw-up.

Wordlessly, Kuroro crumpled the scraps in his hand as his other hand shot into his pants pocket. Before he knew it, he had keyed in _that_ number and was listening to the ringtone.

_Click. "Hello dear,"_ Midoya's voice said pleasantly.

"You destroyed my Screw-up," Kuroro told her, almost shaking with grief. "It's torn. In pieces. My irreplaceable Screw-up is _scrap_!"

"_Oh Kuroro, I am really sorry. I meant to maim you, not destroy your precious Screw-up." _

"Oh and we all know what intentions are," Kuroro snapped, aghast. "I've heard the road to Hell is paved with the best of them. I don't care what you intended to do, Midoya. You _destroyed my Screw-up_! That is a crime, a true crime against everything that Art stands for."

"_Darling, you're in a mood. Sit down and take some deep breaths." _

"I can't because the oxygen in the vault is being burned out by the fire you made," Kuroro complained.

"_Oh darling, you mustn't be too caught up in the details. Look at the big picture."_

"Big picture?" Kuroro blinked as a wave of dizziness passed over him. He really hadn't been kidding when he said oxygen was running out fast in the vault. "What big picture?"

"_Well, we've got the Infinity Gem, which is half our mission completed. Isn't that more important than being able to breathe? The mission always comes before the individual; is that not the Ryodan's way?" _

She was being sarcastic, Kuroro realised. He had always known she used sarcasm to taunt her enemies. In fact, he had always enjoyed seeing her taunt other people; she had a very sharp wit and she put it to good use. Now, he knew just how _aggravating_ it was to be on the receiving end of it. "Midoya," he said warningly. "You are pushing my limits."

"_Oh Kuroro,"_ Midoya finally sighed. _"You are overreacting. It's not like this is the first time you've ever had any of this happen to you. You really should just get used to it and move on."_

Kuroro closed his eyes and took a deep breath, probably using up the last of the oxygen as he did. "I am going to kill you," he told her softly.

"_Of course dear; I would hardly expect anything less. Try to do so after I kill Armando though. It would be a shame if we came all the way here to kill him only to die without doing so."_ Without further words, she hung up.

Very slowly, Kuroro put the phone back into his pocket. Then steeling himself, he glanced regrettably at the remains of his Screw-up. "I shall avenge you," he promised the shreds of paper.

Ignoring the wave of dizziness that washed through him, Kuroro then approached the locked vault door and eyed it. Well then. Time to get out of here.

* * *

The closer they got to Dancho's position, the less reliant on Kalluto's powers they were. Dancho's familiar Nen was like a beacon in the mansion, and the Ryodan members, well-tuned to their leader's aura, could sense him once they were within range. By the time they burst into what turned out to be a bedroom, the Ryodan members already knew exactly where Dancho was.

"He's in that vault," Kalluto said, sounding like he was out of breath but trying to hide it. "I think he might be trapped."

"Got it," Phinx said through gritted teeth, and rolled up his sleeve, preparing to hit the door down. Before he could do so however, the door exploded, sending chunks of metal whipping through the air and ripping the bedroom apart.

"What the…" Kalluto, the nearest to the blast, blinked frantically as the dust cleared, trying to get the grit out of his eyes. As he did, a dark figure stepped out through the door way, blazing with wild, erratic, _searing_ Nen. Dark eyes glanced at them, glowing an eerie blue that contrasted with the red embers within the vault.

"Ah, Phinx," Dancho said, pleasantly. "Good to see you. Oh, and there are more. Franklin, Machi, Kalluto. Hello."

Phinx looked at Dancho carefully. His clothing, especially his tuxedo blazer, was torn to shreds, his pale skin was smudged with black gunpowder, his hair was a mess and his eyes were unfocused as if he were daydreaming. Very slowly, Phinx took a careful step away.

"Hi Dancho," Machi said cautiously. "What happened?"

"Ah. I am still unclear on the details," Dancho said, his voice still even and pleasant. "Let me see. Well, Midoya got the Infinity Gem, Armando Basilio turned out to be either her brother-in-law, her cousin or her nephew, Midoya threw a bomb at me then ran out to kill Basilio and my Screw-up is gone forever. That about summarises the events of the past… goodness, it has barely been fifteen minutes." Dancho smiled faintly and Phinx subtly moved back some more until he was standing next to Machi. "So," Dancho went on, tilting his head curiously at them, "what are the four of you doing here?"

"It's five of us," Kalluto said, "Nobunaga is fighting Pepeka Timbal's sister." He sounded a lot cooler than Phinx felt. Those Zoldycks sure have some big balls.

"Kikita," Dancho said, nodding. "I should have known she was in on this. What 'this' is though, I have very little idea. Are you surprised? I am. It is so rare for me to have so little grasp of a situation like this. But that seems to be the case whenever Midoya is the ah… _situation_, so to speak."

Franklin cleared his throat. "We might have some idea," he said hesitantly. "That's why we're here actually."

"Oh? Do tell."

"Well…" Even Machi was starting to look uneasy. "Shalnark turned up some interesting information. It seems the Infinity Gem is the heirloom of the Kito family. It's… it's the thing that they use to determine who the Head of the family is or something like that. Shalnark mentioned just having the Gem gives the bearer legitimacy to rule the family. It seems that uh… Kito got her position because she was labelled heir in her father's will while he was still in possession of the Gem. Then he lost it, you know... so if someone else came up with the Infinity Gem… that would trump her father's will or something like that."

"Ah," Dancho said, looking enlightened. "That explains Midoya's interest in this. She's not only protecting her position, she is solidifying it and getting rid of competition at the same time. How smart of her. I am still not sure why she felt the need to backstab the Ryodan though. She told Basilio we knew where the Gem was, you know? I always thought it was weird Basilio managed to find out I had stolen the Gem as a child. It's not like anyone knew who I was then. I always thought only someone from Meteor City, someone who would recognise a description of me even as a child could have told him. I forgot there are people outside Meteor City who know me intimately. So Midoya told him and she told him to attack us. I really do wonder why…"

The Ryodan members, were by now, almost huddling together, giving in to the pack instinct of safety in numbers. "So uh… what do we do now?" Phinx asked hesitantly.

Dancho's eyes focused on him and Phinx cringed. "Well, it is obvious of course," Dancho said patiently. "We are going to kill Basilio and Midoya, and take back the Infinity Gem. Oh, we should probably kill Kikita too. She knew about this." Almost idly, Dancho rubbed his chin, obliviously smearing black stuff all over his mouth. Phinx wanted to tell Dancho to stop (he was starting to look increasingly deranged), but he didn't dare. "Kalluto, track Midoya down."

"Alright," Kalluto said easily. "Don't look."

Dancho gave him a politely inquisitive look and Kalluto turned pale. "Fine, only Dancho can look," he said sharply. "Everyone else look away!"

This time, no one protested when they turned around to face a wall. Behind them, Kalluto's Nen swelled. "Ah, what an interesting power," Dancho's voice said and Kalluto mumbled an embarrassed-sounding reply.

Finally, Kalluto's Nen went down. "She's heading up," he told them.

"Right." Dancho's dark eyes swept over them as they turned to face him. "Well then, Ryodan. Let's go chase down our little traitor."

* * *

A wisp of Nen, vaguely familiar but almost unidentifiable, brushed past her senses, and Midoya stopped in her tracks. Her head tilted as she searched for the Nen, but it was already gone. Hmm. Interesting. She wasn't sure who's that was, but she was pretty certain it was one of the Ryodan's. So, they were here. She had surmised as much when she felt Kikita's Nen swell in battle. Shortly after leaving Kuroro, she had tried calling Kikita but there had been no answer. No matter. Kikita could handle herself. Midoya had other things to do.

First, to deal with that unfamiliar Nen, she took the time to slip into _In_, diminishing her presence until it was almost gone. Then stealthily, Midoya pressed herself into the shadows of the corridor as she peered around the corner. Somewhere ahead of her was Armando Basilio, but he, like the One Star Hunter he was, had hidden his presence and she wasn't sure exactly where he was. What a sneaky little bastard; it was enough to let her know he had some Kito blood in him.

As she moved around the corner, she felt the heavy weight of the necklace around her neck. Almost as if to make sure it was really there, she touched it gently. She had paid quite a hefty price for this. Kuroro was, as seen by his call, absolutely furious with her. She wondered if he had been hurt by the blast. It didn't seem likely; he had been more upset about the loss of his painting than anything else. She wondered if her Nen-bomb _had_ accidentally made Kuroro orgasm. That would have been quite a sight and might actually help gain his forgiveness. Not that it was likely he would truly forgive her. Kuroro can be quite a vindictive man when he wronged.

Well, what was done cannot be undone. If he was to become her enemy then so be it. It wasn't quite as regrettable a thought as one might imagine. As good in bed as he was, Kuroro was most in his element as a criminal mastermind, and to have that genius criminal pit his wits against hers would truly be a delight.

A glint of silver. Something whistled past her and buried itself right next to her ear. Midoya didn't even flinch. "A very bad throw, Armando dear," she called out and immediately moved from her current position as more throwing knives embedded themselves in the wall where she had been.

From her new position, Midoya smiled. Based on the trajectory of the knives, she could guess where Armando was now. Resisting the urge to hum the theme song of that terrible movie with sharks in it, Midoya crept towards his position. However, by the time she got there, he was gone. Instead, she was greeted by another flurry of knives. This time, she was forced to drop to the floor and roll out of the way. Smart boy. He had deliberately lured her over so he could pinpoint her location.

On her way up, someone she hadn't sensed grabbed her and pulled her to her feet. Reacting instinctively, Midoya stuck a dagger through the person before she recognised his smell.

"Hisoka?" she murmured, barely moving her lips.

"Oh _yes_," he moaned, drawing another flurry of knives.

Midoya sighed as they dodged. "Where did I stab you this time?" she asked resignedly. Not somewhere incapacitating she hoped. He still had a part to play in her plans.

Hisoka chuckled. "Left bicep," he told her. "I want more. You promised."

"Later," Midoya assured him, ignoring him in favour of sending out her senses ahead. From the lack of attacks by Armando, he had probably figured out she had found help and had fled. She wanted to go after him but Hisoka picked her up suddenly and carried her through a door before she could react.

Slamming the door shut, Hisoka put her down and Midoya turned to glare at Hisoka – then blinked with surprise. He wasn't wearing his suit anymore. He wasn't even wearing a shirt or shoes. In fact, the only thing he wore was his pants, which looked like they had been shredded at by a wild cat.

"Clemence," Hisoka said in reply to her questioning look.

Ah. "You took care of her?" Midoya asked. A presence shivered down her spine suddenly and she tensed up. Hisoka smiled and licked her earlobe. "Hisoka," Midoya said slowly. "Is Clemence behind me?"

"Yeah, she is," Hisoka murmured, pressing up against her and openly feeling her up. Ignoring him, Midoya looked over her shoulder. Elegant Clemence, beautiful, graceful cousin, grand-aunt or grand-niece, was sprawled on the bed, her beautiful dress shredded to pieces, watching them with amusement.

"_Bonsoir_, Clemence," Midoya said as Hisoka's hands started to slide around her breasts. Primly, she pinched his hands until he let go with a giggle. Why were all the men around her so easily distracted during missions? You would have thought they have never seen a thousand year old statue before or touched a woman's breasts before.

"I'm really hard," Hisoka purred in her ear. "I can't decide if I want to fuck you or rip your throat out. Fighting Clemence made me _so_ hard. You didn't tell me she knew Nen."

"I thought you would like the surprise," Midoya murmured, stepping out of his reach. "Clemence darling is a One Star Hunter in her own right. I'm sure the fight was fun."

"_Oui_, June," Clemence said, amused. "Did I make you angry by calling you my _poupee_ just now? You must know it is only my little joke."

"So you _did_ recognise me," Midoya concluded. "Interesting." Carefully, she slid onto the bed next to Clemence.

"But of course, _mon chouchou_," Clemence replied, making space for her. Hisoka joined them, sliding around to spoon with Clemence. Midoya raised her eyebrow at that but Clemence ignored that with great dignity. "Tell me, June. Why did you get this stunning man here to kill me?"

Midoya shrugged elegantly. "You were very openly supportive of Armando's takeover of the Kito estate," she said mildly.

"_Oh non_! I am shocked! Horribly shocked! Me openly support Armando's takeover of your estate? Did you think I was that evil?"

"Was I mistaken?" Midoya asked innocently. "Goodness, I would never have thought you making a public announcement that you wish to support Armando's acquisition of the Infinity Gem could have been anything but an explicit show of support for his plans."

Clemence's heavily smeared lips spread in a wide smile. "Ah, my _petit_ _mademoiselle_, you must know that was more a political move than anything else," she said with mock sadness. "Besides, who do you think leaked to you that dear Armando was trying to steal your estate?"

"Ah," Midoya said ambivalently. It was true someone had leaked the information to her that Armando was actively aiming for the Kito estate even before he had made the public announcement, but she had no confirmation that it was Clemence. For all she knew, Clemence was lying about that. It would be odd if it was true though. Odd, and very interesting.

Gracefully, Clemence stroked Hisoka's arms, which were wrapped around her, much too tightly, as seen by the way her skin was starting to bruise. "_Mon chouchou_, I must confess what shocked me more was not my support for Armando, but _yours_," she murmured. "What did you say to Armando that made him think you would willingly give up your position to him? What did you say to convince him you were _helping_ him?"

Midoya smiled. "I told him I wanted to give up the tiresome life of the Head of Estate, marry him and spend the rest of my life making his babies."

Clemence's mouth parted in surprise. "And he believed you? Unbelievable!" she cried, throwing her arms in the air. "Men! They think we women want nothing but their _bite_!"

"It's true," Hisoka purred from behind her and grinded his hips against her.

"Oh, _you,_" Clemence tittered. Then more seriously, she added, "Still, that _fils du pute_. A true _batard_ if I ever saw one. He was willing to discard poor Leah for you? Sweet, stupid little Leah who had followed him like a loyal puppy since he was a little boy?"

"Quite. I present a much more advantageous marriage than Leah, that poor dear," Midoya agreed. "But Clemence, why did you help me? You are usually much closer to Armando. The both of you have more interests in common than we do."

For a moment, a genuine smile flittered over Clemence's face. "_Mon chouchou_," she said fondly. "Yes, Armando and I, but we are close. Yet we fight so often about many things, like you! Armando doesn't like you, he thinks you don't deserve what you have now, but I've always admired you! You have much courage. In this business… it is so hard to flourish… as a woman. These men don't take us seriously. They think because we have breasts and no _bite_, we have no brains. Those _imbeciles_! But you have accomplished much, perhaps even more than I have. In these circles, these same men faint at the thought of offending you. That is truly to be admired, _mon petit_."

"Oh." Midoya blinked, oddly touched. No one had ever told her they knew how difficult it had been for her to reach the position she was in now, how difficult it had been for a child, and a female child at that, to gain the position she had now in what was still largely a man's world. "Thank you."

"_And_ if Armando dies, I stand a chance, as his closest relative, to inherit some of his estate. So I have nothing to lose by supporting you. If anything, I gain an ally, some money, and perhaps a good friend." Clemence smiled. "If you lose to Armando though, this conversation never happened, _oui_?"

"Of course dear, I would not like to sabotage your plans to play both Armando and I equally. I've always admired you too, Clemence. Not many people can… endure Hisoka like you have."

Clemence laughed. "Hisoka is a little _cocotte_ truly," she said, leaning over and pulling Hisoka's hair violently. "He's not as nasty as people say."

"No," Hisoka said, pouting sadly, "I am extremely misunderstood." To prove that, he leaned over and delivered a painful, nasty bite on Clemence's shoulder. Midoya had seen dog bites less severe than that. Not that Clemence seemed to mind.

At that, the thought occurred to her that she was sitting on a bed that Hisoka and Clemence had just had violent, kinky sex on. "At any rate," Midoya said, getting up quickly, "I need to get going. I still have to kill Armando, and I need to do so before Kuroro and the Ryodan find me."

"Ryodan? You mean the Genei Ryodan? _Ma cherie_, you don't cut corners when you decide to make enemies, do you?"

"What can I say? I'm charming that way." Midoya turned to leave but Clemence held out a hand to stop her.

"June, wait a minute. I have more news. I got Hisoka to bring you here so I could tell you that Armando has a helicopter on the roof. He should be heading there."

Oh really? Great minds think alike. "_Merci_," Midoya told her and kissed her cheek.

Clemence looked at her evenly. "You knew?" she asked.

Midoya simply smiled. "You are a wonderful cousin, Clemence," she said instead. "Do you remember playing dolls together when we were younger?"

"_Oui_, we made Betty execute Sammy with a paper clip, and we figured out how to dismember Charlie together. It was much fun. And June." Clemence's eyes were warm and kind now. "Good luck."

Midoya blinked. "_Oui_, Clemence," she replied. _"Merci_." Tilting her head, Midoya regarded Hisoka thoughtfully. "Do you want to fight Kuroro and the Ryodan, or do you prefer to stay here and let Clemence spank you?" she asked innocently.

Clemence giggled. Hisoka joined her. They sounded eerily similar. "I will be happy to help you violently kill Kuroro and the Ryodan, Midoya-chan," Hisoka said, licking blood off his lips. With another giggle, Clemence patted his bottom playfully. Hisoka reciprocated the gesture by pouncing on her.

Midoya smiled into the distance and contemplated Plato's Cave of Shadows until they were done mauling each other.

"Alright, I'm ready to go," Hisoka told her, face bleeding from bite marks and scratches.

"Fantastic," Midoya beamed. Glancing at the now entirely naked and bleeding Clemence, she added, "Goodbye Clemence."

"_Au revoir_," Clemence replied, wriggling her torn and bloodied fingers. "See you later, Hisoka., _mon amour_."

When they have stepped back into dark corridor, Midoya gave Hisoka an even look. "I told you to kill Clemence and you didn't," she scolded. "How did she convince you not to kill her?"

Hisoka's smile widened. "It was rather spontaneous. We fought for a long time, a long blissful time, filled with blood and pain. But the more I cut her, the harder I got, and the more she cut me, the wetter she got and eventually, the red threads of fate drew us together, closer and closer until… _ah_! The sweet climax of pleasure… _oh,_ it was too much to bear, Midoya-chan. You should have been there; you would have loved it."

It was only then that Midoya noticed the red lipstick marks on his back. "Oh. How… sweet." And that, Midoya mused, as they headed for the rooftop, was the most disturbing thing she had heard in a while. Coming from her, _that_ meant something alright…

* * *

The halls of the Basilio mansion were dark and devoid of any presence. It forced the Ryodan to move slowly and steadily. For Kuroro, it was as near to torture as being stuck in the eye with a hot poker. Every second they wasted feeling around the place meant more time for Midoya to escape. Yet, they couldn't risk just rushing around the corners, not with a powerful foe like Midoya. Being forced to move so slowly was just so…

Without warning, Kalluto stopped and made an annoyed sound. "I've lost her trace," he said morosely. "The last of her presence is somewhere around… here."

Kuroro walked over to where Kalluto was and examined the area he was pointing to carefully. "Ah," he said finally. "Phinx, a little help here?"

The throwing knife was embedded deeply in the wall, but Phinx somehow managed to yank it out. The blade broke off as he did, but at least he managed to get the handle out. "Ah shit. Sorry Dancho. Here," he said, offering it to Kuroro.

Kuroro took it and turned it over in his hand. "It's not Midoya's," he murmured, "But the Nen traces on it…" he ran a finger over the handle, "I would say belongs to Armando Basilio." Had they lost her trail? This was not a good sign. He didn't trust himself to be able to guess with any accuracy what Midoya would do next; she was as unpredictable as a tropical storm. Besides, having only just learned of her intentions less than fifteen minutes ago, he did not feel like he had enough knowledge to guess at her plans. What the Ryodan had told him did not even begin to explain what she was doing in the Basilio mansion at the moment. There was not enough information and no time to acquire what was necessary.

"They fought here?" Phinx asked.

"No," Kuroro said immediately. "Not enough blood and destruction. Midoya can be subtle, but when she goes all out, there tends to be all sorts of… body parts lying about. Besides, her Nen is almost non-existent here. She was hiding herself which means she was following him, and he was trying to get rid of her."

"You're right," Machi, further ahead down the corridor, called, "there're traces of their Nen here. It's barely visible. You have to be right on top of it to feel it." She paused. "And I smell roses."

Roses. "Hisoka is here too," Kuroro told them, and felt the Ryodan members tense up. "I thought it was a coincidence. How silly of me."

"She teamed up with Hisoka?" Phinx spluttered. "Is she insane? Hisoka will turn on her in a split second if he felt it would benefit him."

"Yes, but he is also one of the people she knows for sure has fought me to a draw before," Kuroro said thoughtfully. "And the verdict is still out on whether Midoya is insane or not."

The more he thought about it, the more the scope of Midoya's plan astounded him. There were so many layers to her plan. First, she had to somehow convince all these opposing sides, Basilio, the Ryodan, Hisoka and Kikita, that she was on their side. Then she had to figure out a way to play all sides against each other. To do so, she had used Basilio against the Ryodan, the Ryodan against Basilio, and Hisoka and Kikita, he had no doubt, against everyone else. If that was not enough, she had to do all of that without the benefit of her Hunter license or the power and money of the Kito estate, for to use any of her normal resources would be to alert Basilio to her involvement in this. How had she convinced everyone to do as she planned?

And here was the embarrassing part. _He_ had been a key part in her plan. Kuroro Lucifer, Dancho of the Genei Ryodan. By winning him over, she had effectively gained control over the entire Ryodan. She told him the plan, and he told the Ryodan the plan and… they did as she wanted them to. It was only when he was separated from the Ryodan, when they were running things on their own, that her plan had fell apart. He had been the weak link because of his past with her.

"No use beating yourself up over it, Dancho," Franklin rumbled in his ear and Kuroro blinked.

"Am I truly that obvious?" he asked curiously.

Franklin shrugged. "I've known you a long time," he said. "And Kito. Well. She's known you a long time too. She knew exactly what made you tick, knew exactly what she needed to do to make you jump. You can't spend that much time with someone and not have them crawl under your skin somehow."

"Regrettably so," Kuroro agreed.

"And you know, Dancho?"

"Yes, Franklin?"

Franklin coughed delicately. "You must consider the idea that _you_ might have crawled under her skin too," he said in a deliberately even voice.

His first thought was that the image of him crawling about under Midoya's skin was a truly horrifying one. His second thought was that Franklin was right. He had known Midoya as long as she had known him. Surely he knew things about her only someone of his position would know. Immediately, he realised he had been thinking about this the wrong way. The point wasn't to predict Midoya's plan in its entirety; he had already reached the realisation that her plan was much more complex than he had ever imagined and that she had goals he only half-understood. Nor was there any point in reacting to the situation as has been established by her. To do so would mean they would always be one step behind her. What he needed to do was to think of something that she _must_ do and he might be able to guess _how_ she would do it.

"Point of extraction," Kuroro said finally. The other Ryodan members turned to look at him. "That's where we can catch her. We have no idea what she is doing at the moment, and no idea what else she plans to do in this mansion, so we can't predict where she is at the moment. However, no matter what happens, Midoya has to leave this place eventually. She should have a plan for escaping this mansion, and it would be one that involves taking Kikita with her." He paused thoughtfully. "Kikita is close to her. They are very good friends. You remember how when we were trying to escape the Fort, Midoya kept reminding us we needed to get Pepeka too? Given how close Midoya is to Kikita, she would not leave Kikita behind any more than she would have left Pepeka behind in the Fort when the Association was still trying to kill her. Their mode of escape would require one that can take at least two people then."

"She would leave Hisoka behind?" Kalluto asked.

"Wouldn't you?" Machi replied wryly.

"Didn't you guys come in a car?" Phinx asked. "Isn't that her point of extraction?"

"No," Kuroro disagreed. "It's too… obvious." In fact, Kuroro thought, he had a feeling he knew where she was heading to. "The roof," Kuroro said. "She's heading for the roof. She must have some form of escape up there. It will be entirely unexpected because it seems so counter-intuitive. The higher you go, the harder it is to escape. To escape from a high place, you need specialised equipment or forms of transport. Surely, it is less convenient to escape from there. That's what I would normally think, what most people would normally think. Hence, that's the route she will choose."

"Really?" Phinx asked. "You sure, Dancho?"

He thought about it, thought about all the times he had seen her escape from danger. He knew her M.O. Distraction, misdirection and unexpected routes of escape. "As sure as I can be in this situation," Kuroro said. To Phinx, he added, "You said Nobu is fighting Kikita? Tell him to delay the fight. Draw it out. Midoya wouldn't leave until Kikita is with her. That, I am very certain of."

"On it," Phinx said, taking out his phone.

"And the rest of us," Kuroro ordered, "to the roof."

* * *

"Distract her, huh?" Nobunaga muttered as he hung up the phone. "Easier said than done." Shaking himself out to loosen his increasingly stiff shoulders, Nobunaga raised his sword again and half-glared at his opponent, though his heart wasn't in it.

Before him stood Kikita Timbal, tall, Amazonian, and blazing with Nen. Her eyes, wide and wild, glowed red at him over a wide half-snarl half-grin. The dress shirt she had been wearing had shredded when her muscles had swelled up magnificently, bulging with throbbing veins as she howled an unspoken challenge at him. He had sliced her many times during the battle, and her body was wet and slick with blood. Now, wearing only a sports bra, a tiny skirt dyed red with blood, a claymore in one hand and a five foot battle-axe in the other, and pink foam at the sides of her mouth, she looked a true vision of madness.

How beautiful she was, Nobunaga thought happily. Reinforcement types were truly the best. Even their women were prettier than other Nen types.

Holding his katana out, Nobunaga shouted, "Come on! Come at me bitch!" thus offering her the first move just as he thought a true gentleman should. He hoped she noticed.

Kikita Timbal tossed her head and howled, sending a shiver down Nobunaga's spine. Her blonde hair appeared to glow white in the moonlight as she lowered her head and snarled. Then screaming, she pounded forward, kicking up dirt as she charged at him, battle axe raised to deliver a deadly blow. Nobunaga dodged swiftly to the right, already knowing from experience (and a broken wrist), that he had no way of taking the full force of her attacks without suffering some form of embarrassing injury – like death.

To his surprise, even as the battle axe smashed into the ground, uprooting a few small trees, the claymore swung in a horizontal stroke, aiming straight for his neck. Cursing violently, Nobunaga ducked down as the claymore swept over his head, barely missing his top-knot. Nobunaga barely had time to congratulate himself before a heavy, muscular leg buried itself into his ribs and thrust him ten feet into a tree that had somehow survived the first blow.

Coughing blood, Nobunaga forced himself back to his feet, feeling his ribs move around as he did. Ah, broken ribs; haven't had those in a while. The feeling was almost nostalgic. It was just like the early days of the Ryodan when they were still green and innocent… Saying a word he probably shouldn't have said in front of this beautiful woman, Nobunaga dived again, gasping with pain as he was forced to roll to avoid the battle axe again.

This time, he didn't wait for the claymore to come down. Instead, he continued his roll until he was near a tree before launching himself towards her, using the tree as a jumping board. He was within the range of her weapons in a split second, and he saw those glowing red eyes glaring at him fearlessly even when she realised she couldn't possibly bring her weapons back in time to block his blow.

For a moment, Nobunaga hesitated. Was he supposed to cut off her head now? Maybe he should just nick her face a little. That would be a non-fatal cut and would give her the even nicer grungy look all Reinforcement types have. Nice, grungy look. Ooh. Sexy.

Controlling the Nen in his katana carefully, Nobunaga swiped at her face, drawing a thin line of blood straight across the top of her cheeks and her nose. She screamed in surprise and rage, and her head jerked back reflexively. Immediately, Nobunaga kicked her in the chest _hard_. She choked violently as she flew backwards, smashing into a tree of her own.

Without allowing her time to recover, Nobunaga zipped towards her, stopping just when his katana touched her throat. "Alright, enough is enough," he said gruffly, meeting her glaring red eyes firmly. "Stop this nonsense now."

She snarled at him, pink foaming at the edges of her mouth as her muscles tensed to pounce.

What the fuck was he supposed to do now? Nobunaga wondered. Was he supposed to let her make her move and then respond to it? Or should he cut her throat to stop her from fighting more? It didn't seem polite to cut the throat of a woman he liked. At least that's what he learnt from watching television. You just don't kill the woman you like.

Fortunately, he was saved from having to make the decision when Kikita Timbal smashed his nose in with her forehead.

Groaning and spluttering blood, Nobunaga tumbled to the ground, clutching his face. _God_, that hurt! Still, despite his injury and the blood gushing down his face, he had enough presence of mind to form a proper shield around him just in case Kikita Timbal decided to stomp his spine in.

To his surprise, he heard her say, "Fuck!" very loudly as she stumbled backwards, one hand pressed to her forehead which was gushing blood. "What the fuck is your head made of?" she cursed, blood running in rivulets down her face. "Fucking diamonds?"

"Dancho always told me I am very hard-headed," Nobunaga demurred modestly. It was a compliment, wasn't it, to compare him to diamonds? Diamonds were nice and pretty and expensive things after all.

"Well your Dancho got that right," Kikita Timbal scowled, backing away from him. The red glow had faded from her eyes and her muscles no longer bulged appealingly out of her skin. It seemed to Nobunaga that she had finally slid out of her berserker mode.

"Dancho is always right," Nobunaga told her as he climbed to his feet. "He's smart that way. And pure. Like a baby."

Kikita Timbal glared at him with a disbelieving look on her face. "You obviously have not heard Kuroro and Midoya talk about sex before," she sneered caustically.

As a matter of fact, Nobunaga _had_ heard Dancho and Kito talk about sex before. He had even walked in on them in the middle of the act. He just chose to designate all those little moments as brief episodes of insanity brought on by the corrupting influence of an obviously _bad woman._ Not that he actually thought Kito was bad. She was actually a pretty decent human being, in his opinion, even if she seemed to be planning the Ryodan's impending doom or whatever shit that was. Not like she was the first person in the world to do that. Besides, it's hard to take it personally when it happens so darn often. "It's not that bad," Nobunaga protested finally. "Dancho is really pure. I swear he is."

"Uh huh." Kikita Timbal didn't seem to believe him at all, but that was fine. She looked the prettiest when she was aggressive, like all Reinforcement Types. "Whatever man, you getting up to fight or not?" she growled, her Nen starting to swell again.

Now, that was the fucking question, wasn't it? Nobunaga had no idea how many times she could do that berserker thing. And once she went berserk, she was near fucking impossible to pin down. That was not good. He had to either defeat her or distract her until Dancho found Kito. Man, how the fuck was he going to do this? He wasn't a bad fighter, but Kikita Timbal was good, like A-list good. Sure, he could probably kill her if he tried really hard, but he didn't know if he could defeat her without killing her. He would really prefer not to kill her. It's very hard to woo a corpse, even if it's one as pretty as she is. Seriously, her legs looked like they could kick out a rhino's head. The muscle definition was seriously to die for. Damn, they were so hot. He has always loved muscles like that.

Well, come to think of it, he didn't have to fight, did he? Of course, if he wanted to defeat her, he needed to throw down with her, but if just needed to distract her…

"Hello?" Kikita Timbal was saying impatiently. "Did I hit you that hard? Are you down for the count? Can I just fucking leave you here and get on with my fucking life?"

"Oh, oh, oh, I am really hurt!" Nobunaga declared in what he hoped was a voice filled with agony and anguish. "Oh, I am hurting so bad I am seeing uh… pink elephants." Moaning theatrically, he dropped to the ground and tried to look like he was in pain and not like he was having an epileptic fit. Spasms are totally not sexy.

The claymore lowered as Kikita Timbal stared at him. "Shit, I really _did_ hit you that hard," she muttered.

"No, no," Nobunaga protested, "I mean, yeah, you hit me hard, because you are so strong being Reinforcement and all, but I'm hurting not because I am like a wimp or anything. I'm just uh… Hey, man, I can't breathe properly. Whoa, this is like totally insane." He managed to hack a cough or two, blinking at her hopefully.

"Uh… you can't breathe?" Kikita Timbal asked. She didn't exactly sound worried, but she didn't sound uncaring either. That was nice of her. Damn, she must be a big softie deep inside. All Reinforcement types were. Just look at Ubogin: all about squashing skulls and breaking bones and eating brains on the outside, but really sweet and cuddly deep, deep, deep, deep… _deep_ inside. "Ah fuck," Kikita Timbal growled, throwing up her arms in the air. "I hate it when my opponents do that. Now I would feel bad if I left you to drown in your own blood. Besides, Midoya did tell me not to… oh fuck! You just threw up! Fucking, shit, gross!"

He _had_ just thrown up. It was one in a series of skills Ubo and he had acquired as kids: the ability to fart, burp and puke on command. Nobunaga beamed proudly. Machi and Paku had mocked them then but he _always_ knew it was a skill that would come in handy one day.

"Alright, _alright_!" Kikita Timbal shouted, marching over. "Damn it! I thought you Ryodan guys are supposed to be tougher than this! Hell, your Dancho was pretty darn fucking tough. I might have actually lost if he wasn't just playing around too, and don't fucking tell me he wasn't. I can tell when someone isn't taking me seriously. I mean, he was playing around with a new skill when he fought me. Which fucking idiot does that in an actual… Hey, you're breathing normally. Are you fucking around with me too?"

"But you're pretty," Nobunaga said earnestly, his eyes shining with tears. "You're so fucking pretty."

"… Excuse me?" Kikita Timbal demanded. "What did you say?"

"That's you're pretty… like a fox-bear. Fuck, you're a real pretty fox-bear, miss."

"Is that a compliment or an insult?" Kikita Timbal questioned as she propped him up against a tree. "Do I _want_ to look like a fox-bear?"

What a silly question. "Of course you do," Nobunaga told her. "Fox-bears are fucking awesome."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." Nobunaga took in a wet breath. Holy crap, he might have really pierced a lung or something. Bloody foam was not a good sign, right? Damn, he wished Shalnark or Dancho were here to tell him if he should be worried.

"Well, you're not too bad," Kikita Timbal mused. "Not many people in this world care about fox-bears. Or any other bears actually. Did you know fox-bears are so endangered they can only be found on this tiny fishing island called Whale Island? Fucking terrible, isn't it? They used to be more widespread till poaching diminished their numbers."

"Thanks," Nobunaga beamed, though he had no idea what she was talking about. It was enough to know she thought he _wasn't too bad_. That was practically a marriage proposal, right?

A silence fell as Kikita Timbal gently examined his broken nose. Nobunaga took the opportunity to examine her closely in return (only seemed fair). Damn, she was beautiful. Her brother was a beautiful man too, and damn if those same features that made Pepeka Timbal a handsome man didn't make Kikita Timbal one fucking gorgeous woman.

"There," Kikita Timbal said, stuffing a wad of tissue none too gently against his bleeding nose, "that should hold it for a while till your friends find you later."

"'k," Nobunaga said nasally as he breathed through his mouth. Damn, _now_ he really had trouble breathing because of the tissue. He should just take it away, but she had given it to him. It was only polite to accept it, right?

"You fine?" Kikita Timbal demanded, as if she dared him to deny that he was perfectly fine.

"Ya," Nobunaga replied happily.

"Good man," Kikita Timbal said, giving him a heavy thump on the shoulder that almost made him pass out. "Then I'll be on my way. If I'm late, Midoya's going to be so fucking pissed off at me."

Wait. That was not good. She wasn't supposed to leave! Dancho's orders! "Vait," Nobunaga cried, still holding the tissue to his nose. "Vait a minit." God, the tissue smelt like her even through the blood. He was never throwing the tissue away.

Kikita Timbal stopped in her tracks and glared at him. "What?" she demanded irritably.

What? "Uh…" Nobunaga replied eloquently. Okay, think! He had to think of a pretty darn good reason, and he doubted saying something like 'Please stay' would keep this woman here. "Uh… erm…"

"Well?" Kikita Timbal demanded. "You have five seconds to speak or I'm leaving."

Oh shit. "Ma toe hu'ts," Nobunaga blurted out.

A beat. "What?" Kikita Timbal asked incredulously.

"Ma toe hu'ts," Nobunaga tried to say convincingly. "Will you bandage it up for mwe?"

Kikita Timbal shot him a disbelieving look. "Your nose is broken, your lungs are filled with holes and your ribs are broken. Yet the one thing you are concerned about is your _toe_?"

Nobunaga blinked. So he _did_ have holes in his lungs. Well, that was fucking inconvenient. But whatever. It's not like he hadn't had holes in his lungs before. "Vell, it's not like I can ban'age up ma _lungs_," he retorted defensively. "Come on; just help me fix ma toe, will y'u?"

"What the fuck…! Fine!" Kikita Timbal threw her arms in the air in a gesture of surrender before stomping over and yanking off his _geta_. "Where the fuck on your toe does it hurt?"

What do you know? It worked! "Um… my vhole toe hu'ts," Nobunaga lied proudly.

Blue eyes glared at him. "Your _whole_ toe hurts?" she asked, deadpan.

"Uh… yeah?"

"Since when did I attack your entire fucking _toe_?"

"Uh… erm… _that_ time?"

Blue eyes narrowed. "Dude? Seriously?"

"It's arhth'itis," Nobunaga mumbled defensively. "It hu'ts vhen it's cold."

With a disgusted sound, Kikita Timbal dropped his foot (which jarred his broken ribs and really caused him some pain, he might add). "What the fuck, man!" she shouted. "What is your problem? Are you looking for a fight?"

"No, no," Nobunaga protested hurriedly (because his toe did really hurt now, damn the damp Agocchi night air). "Not a fight. I'm not loo'ing for a fight, I mean. I mean… hey, the moon is weal pwetty today, ain't it?"

"Okay, that's it. You're freaky and I'm leaving."

"No wait!" In his nervousness, Nobunaga threw an arm up and grabbed hold of her wrist. She tensed instinctively and shoved him away.

"What the fuck, man!" Kikita shouted. "What do you want?"

And before Nobunaga could stop himself, the words were out of his mouth. "Mawwee me!" he shouted desperately. "Just… mawee me."

* * *

AN: This week, shit has happened in real life and I probably wouldn't have the chance to upload as fast as I had hoped to. I will definitely try to meet the one-chapter-a-week deadline I've set for myself, but we'll have to see. I'm really depressed at the moment thanks to the aforementioned 'shit', and hopefully that wouldn't influence the tone of this story too much.

Trivial: This was also not the first time Midoya had accidentally destroyed a precious item that Kuroro had stolen.

Many months ago, when Kuroro was still hoping Midoya would join the Ryodan, he had decided that one of the ways to persuade Midoya to do so was to actually let her join him on one of his robberies. Hence, in an attempt to convince her to take up the merry life of a criminal, he had invited her along when he decided to rob the York Shin Museum of Rare Books.

Beforehand, as he would have done with his Ryodan, Kuroro had sat Midoya down and briefed her on the details of his plan. The goal, he explained, was the rare fifteen century edition of Anaphelotis's _Fish and Pets_, a truly masterful treatise on the impact of the fishing industry on the ideology of animals, and an art piece in its own right. The front cover, he had told an attentive Midoya, was made out of real gold and encrusted with precious gems. Midoya had listened carefully and understood the plan with amazing speed. Kuroro had been incredibly pleased because it proved that while Midoya was an excellent strategist and tactician in her own right, she was also fully capable of following instructions. That was one of the key attributes of a good Ryodan member after. With such excellent help at hand, Kuroro really could not see how things could go wrong.

Three hours later, the York Shin Museum of Rare Books was on fire, Kuroro and Midoya were covered with soot and nothing else, and _Fish and Bread_ was a melted puddle of metal on the ground.

Up till this date, Kuroro was not sure exactly what had gone wrong. He was fairly certain things had started off perfectly. They had broken into the museum without alerting the guards or setting off any alarms and had found the book easily enough. The point when things started to go downhill, Kuroro guessed, was right about the time Midoya said, "Hey, what is that shiny thing in the corner of the shelf?" His memories after that were quite fuzzy. There were some vague and indistinct memories about robot assassins, poisonous gases and enraged librarians running after them with laser guns. He did remember stumbling out into the cold night air of York Shin with Midoya by his side, both of them foaming at the mouth as the poisonous gas they had inhaled slowly killed them. Then they may or may not have had wild, frantic sex on the lawn of the museum.

Either way, when he woke up an hour later on the lawn (his body having rejected the poison by itself), he had found himself lying naked next to an equally naked Midoya who had pointed sheepishly at a puddle of gold at her feet and said, "I may have accidentally destroyed that when I used _Ying_ just now, but hey, we still acquired it right? Mission accomplished?"

A couple of months later, even as Kuroro listened disappointedly to Midoya turn down his offer to join the Ryodan, he couldn't help feeling just a little relieved as well.


	10. Insanity

A/N: This is the sequel to A Series of Politically Inappropriate Happenings. This story will be a little different from the previous two (which were quite different from the first installment of The Series). It was inspired by two things: first, a desire to try a slightly different genre other than Humour (a more serious one, one might say) and second, the criticism that Kuroro's relationship with Midoya is a little too perfect.

**Warning: **There is some mention of child abuse (sexual/drug) in this chapter.

Disclaimer:I do not own Hunter X Hunter and all the characters affiliated with the manga/anime. All OCs are mine, which is something. The views stated by the characters do not always reflect the views of the author either. All characters and settings in this story are fictional.

* * *

Insanity 

_A quiet whoosh. A soft hiss of air. The door opened and a rectangle of white, sterile light was carved into the darkness of the room. _

_The child lifted her head wearily and blinked at the sudden glare. This was out of the routine. Normally the door only opened once a day when her only meal was brought to her. Ever since she had learned to just keep quiet, to stop fighting, she had been taken off the drugs, and the doctors had started seeing her less regularly. Could they be putting her back on the drugs again? A shudder ran through her frame. That would be worse than being strapped down, worse than the straitjacket… even worse than death. _

_A young man… no, a boy, just a few years older older than she was, stepped into her room and glared at her furiously. "Bitch!" he screamed and kicked her in the stomach. _

_It had been so long since she had last felt anything but the chill of indoor air-conditioning or the feel of the padded walls against her skin that the pain, so sharp and intense, was almost welcomed. It jolted life back into her, reminded her there was something outside the numbness of frozen limbs or drug-induced hazes. _

_Strong, rough hands grabbed her hair roughly and tugged her to her knees. Hot, dry lips crashed against hers, splitting her lower lip, and she made a pained sound. What was going on? What was happening? The child desperately wanted to ask, but the last time she spoke…_

_The cold steel of the needle against her skin. The sudden inability to move. The ghosts coming out to meet her… _

_The lips tore away from hers and she was flung to the ground. "Bitch!" the boy screamed again. "You should have been mine! All of this should have been mine!" _

_Slowly, the child blinked. Like long-abandoned machinery clanking to life, her mind began to move. What he was saying implied a lot. Had something happened to Father? Had something happened to the will? Or… _

_Her hair was pulled violently and she was dragged back to her knees. "I will find it," the boy snarled, green eyes boring into hers. "I will find the Gem, and then everything you have will be mine. You will be mine. Do you understand me, bitch?" _

_So that's what had happened. Hope, long forgotten, flared in the depths of her soul. That changed things. That gave her an edge. That gave her time. For the first time in months, the child felt her lips tug at the corner. "I wish you luck," she whispered hoarsely and the boy flung her down with a grimace of disgust. She landed at an angle and her wrist started to throb. She welcomed the pain, embraced it as it spread up her arm, setting atrophied muscles and nerves on fire. _

_Then he grabbed the front of her hospital gown and the flimsy material ripped. Pain, deep in her lower abdominal, seared through her, and the child dazedly realised that something bad, something irreversibly bad had just happened. But she remained lying still, staring at the ceiling passively. Patterns, red and black, pulsed before her eyes. Half-formed ideas dreamt up during drug-induced trances came back to her, but much clearer this time. Chains and links clinked together, and suddenly before her, she saw the tangled webs of plots and schemes, complicated in their design, but only an infant form of the type of schemes she will dream up in later years. _

_Her eyes followed every twist and curve, every loop and route, until she reached the very end. A genuine smile curved her lips as she saw what that was. Now she knew what to do. It will take a long time, spinning the web thread by thread, crawling along it with stealthy steps, but soon her prey will be trapped and she will feast on their carcasses. _

_Hope flared in the depths of her soul. And along with it was rekindled the simmering, glowing embers of pure fury. _

* * *

Feet pounding the stone floor, breaths coming in pained gasps, and mind straining to hold on to his Zetsu, Armando Basilio rounded another corner of the corridor, barely managing to keep his balance as fear turned his limbs into cold noodles.

"Fuck," he hissed under his breath, hands shaking with terror. For a moment, Armando Basilio clung to the stone wall with clammy hands as he struggled to catch his breath. "This can't be happening," he breathed desperately. "Fuck, it can't be happening."

Just a few hours ago, things were going perfectly. All his hopes and dreams had come to life. He had the Infinity Gem! He had Clemence on his side! Aunt Kito had promised to marry him. He was about to move into York Shin _finally_. Everything he had worked for all his life had come true! How had it gone so fucking wrong?

Trembling, he pulled out his cell phone and tried Decimal's number again. No answer. Shit, that useless little fuck was supposed to have been heading security detail today! But he had gone missing with five other men. Why hadn't he sensed something was wrong when he found out? What hadn't it occurred to him that they were missing for a _reason_! Because those little shits were always slacking off and… and… wasn't it Aunt Kito who had put that idea in his head? When he had told her about it, she had reassured him… had told him that they were so close to their goal now it didn't matter where those fucking mercenaries were. That fucking bitch! She had played them all, even the guy she had been with. After she tossed that bomb at him, Armando Basilio had no doubt that his pretty little guts were splattered all over the insides of the vault.

Another shudder ran through him and he clutched his churning stomach. He didn't want to end up like that; he really didn't want to end up like that. The idea of it… of exploding all over the place like that, made him want to throw up. Why hadn't he listened when Cousin Bartemus had warned him not to mess with the Kito head? Because it was _his_ right! He was the rightful heir to the Kito estate, not that fucking…

Now he drew a deep breath in a vain attempt to calm down. Alright, this was not the time to panic and throw the blame about. He needed to get out of here. That was the priority. As long as he remained alive, he could solve this. Yes, the Basilio estate would probably disown him just to avoid that bitch Kito's wrath, but no matter. He could always gain it back slowly. He was smart, he was dangerous; he could do this. That bitch was nobody. She was just a fucking mental case. She couldn't possibly out-smart him.

Not for the first time, he tried Clemence's number. Still no response. There were a number of ways he could take this: either Clemence was dead or she had switched sides. Knowing her, he had a pretty fucking good idea what had happened. Never mind. He would make her regret the day she turned on him. He will do things to her that would make her long-dead father scream in his grave.

Giving up on his phone, Armando Basilio continued running, heading for the roof where he knew the helicopter was. Very few people knew of its existence and he liked to keep it that way. It was a hyper-stealth helicopter, so unexpected because people generally expected helicopters to be as noisy as fuck. This baby wasn't though; it was as quiet as an owl and Armando liked it that way. He didn't even need a pilot; he was a bloody good one himself. Yes, once he got to his copter, he will be safe. He just needed to get there. It was so close… so bloody close…

The last three flights of stairs were the toughest, but he made it.

Gasping painfully, Armando Basilio burst into the chilly, night air of Agocchi. Immediately, his limbs started to shake, both from the cold as well as a debilitating sense of relief. He had to ignore that though. There was no time to get emotional. That bitch couldn't be far behind him. He had to get to the copter. So instead of collapsing on the ground like he wanted to, Armando Basilio dragged his frozen feet towards the dark shape of his helicopter.

Through sheer force of will, he gripped the tarp with numb fingers and dragged them off the helicopter. Even in the dark, his baby gleamed.

"Thank god," he mumbled, climbing into the copter. "Oh thank…" His expression of gratitude faded when he saw the control panel. Wires were torn out, panelling had been ripped open, and all the buttons had been torn off.

For a moment, Armando Basilio couldn't move. The alarm and the cold pressed on his chest like a heavy weight, stealing speech and breath from his lips, and he gasped frantically. No… not yet… not like this… not when he was so close…

A presence, a dreaded, familiar presence, pulsated softly in the night air like a diseased wound.

Shaking, Armando Basilio turned to the right to look out of the door. June Kito stood there, right at the edge of the landing pad, watching him with eerily glowing eyes. She didn't speak or move; she just stood there, watching him, her skin almost pure white under the moon and her dark, frizzy hair floating in the breeze like a shadow wraith.

Swallowing hard, Armando Basilio wiped the cold sweat from his brow and forced his trembling limbs to step out of the helicopter. The fear threatened to swallow him but he made himself walk towards her. Half-way there, he glanced at the exit to the halls, wondering in a numb panic if he could reach it before she reached him. But a man stood there, tall, pale and half-naked. He raised a hand and waved cheerfully at him, and Armando Basilio looked away to stare at the floor as he continued his shaky way towards June Kito.

Finally, her bare feet came into view, and he stopped, still staring at the floor.

"Armando," she said softly, and the madness that was her voice threatened to make his bowels loosen on him. "Armando," she repeated. "Look at me."

Somehow, he managed to force his head to lift, to look at her. He had always thought she was a short woman, kind of bland and uninspiring, and unworthy to be the head of the Kito family, but for some reason, she didn't look that short today or that bland. He could hardly tear his eyes away from her now that he was looking at her. Her eyes were twin black holes that pulled him into the horror and insanity that always surrounded her. "Aunt Kito," he breathed, licking his chapped lips.

"You are going to fight, aren't you?" she asked with idle curiosity, as if it didn't really matter to her. "You are a One Star Hunter, are you not? You will at least put up a struggle for your life?"

Fight? Struggle? For a moment, Armando Basilio thought he might just jump off the landing pad. Fight her? He had never known she was a Nen-user, had never known how powerful she was, but he had seen enough tonight to know that she was good, brutally, horrifyingly good. He had tried every trick in the book just to get rid of her in the halls, and he hadn't succeeded until someone else had come along and carted her off. He didn't have a chance to win. He didn't have a chance. He didn't have a fucking iota of a chance. "Yeah," he whispered, "I'll fucking kill you, bitch."

A smile spread over her face, filled with genuine pleasure. "Oh good," she replied. "I hope you're as good as your biography claims you are. I will be so disappointed if you aren't because you see, Armando, you have caused me a lot of… grief, and I dearly want to make you pay." Almost casually, she circled him and walked further away until she was well out of his range, and he of hers. "Now, come on," she said softly, her eyes glowing, "it is time for my revenge. Come and receive it."

"Okay," Armando Basilio said numbly and he groped for his throwing knives. He was going to die tonight; he already knew that. There was no way out. There was no way he was getting out of here alive. Even if he managed to win her, there was still the Ryodan and that man standing…

A flash of colour nestled against the background of black and white caught his eye. In the moonlight, the Infinity Gem blazed a beautiful mixture of red, purple and blue, sparkling like a bejewelled heart against her pale skin.

"That should have been mine," he heard himself saying, "The Gem, the Kito estate… you. All of that are _mine_."

Under the pale moonlight, June Kito cocked her head and looked at him. "Poor Armando," she said pityingly. "You should curse the day Father put that thought in your mind."

Then she was moving towards him, gliding over the rooftop like a phantom.

She was so fast.

So fast.

* * *

They were one storey below the roof when Midoya's Nen flared like a beacon in the open seas.

"What on earth…!" Kalluto exclaimed behind Kuroro, obviously startled by the strength and suddenness of her aura. "That is… is that Kito?" Now the child looked uneasy, though he tried to hide it.

"Yes, that is," Kuroro replied, smiling faintly.

"You were right, Dancho," Machi said calmly. "She was heading for the roof. From the feel of it though…"

"She's fighting," Kuroro agreed. He would recognise it anywhere; the way excitement and bloodlust shimmered through her aura, the way her aura flared and vanished as she moved adeptly between the various Nen techniques. It was as familiar a sensation to him as his own Nen.

"Armando Basilio is up there with her then." Phinx grinned and popped a knuckle. "Let's hurry, Dancho. I want a crack at that bastard too."

"Permission granted," Kuroro murmured, and they sped up, pounding through the corridor with supersonic speed now that they were sure of their destination.

Soon enough, the stairs to the roof were in sight. Kuroro thought he felt his heart skip a little at that. He was finally going to catch up with Midoya, finally going to catch up with that traitorous little minx… Picking up speed, the Ryodan sprinted for the stairs – then stopped when Hisoka stepped into view, smirking at them.

It was a credit to Hisoka's reputation that all six Ryodan members screeched to a stop before him, Nen flaring as they tensed for battle. Hisoka's eyes flickered among them, and lust pulsed through his aura.

"How cold," Hisoka purred with a mock-pout. "I was waiting here so patiently for all of you too, and this is how you treat me? What happened to all those nights we spent together celebrating death?"

"You pretty much blew it when you betrayed the Ryodan to the chain-user," Machi snapped, Nen threads twanging menacingly.

"Aw, Machi." Hisoka fake-pouted some more. "You think so lowly of me. You do know I've always loved you, right?"

Machi's Nen flared and she looked like she was about to retort, but Kuroro knew there wasn't time for that. "Hisoka," he interrupted. "Let us pass. You can't possibly take all six of us?"

"Very true," Hisoka admitted in an uncharacteristic show of humility, "but I have to nonetheless. I made a promise to a beautiful princess we are both acquainted with, and a gentleman always keeps his promises."

Kuroro closed his eyes. Abruptly, he remembered where he had smelled that rose scent before. On the hotel bed; the one he shared with Midoya… oh. The images. "What did Midoya promise you to get you to work for her?" he asked.

"A fabulous fight," Hisoka breathed, rolling his hips forward and spreading his arms. "A wonderful, fabulous fight, ending in sweet, hot _death_."

Midoya did know Hisoka well. "Ryodan," Kuroro ordered sharply. "Take Hisoka together. Stay close enough to assist…" Before he could complete his sentence, Hisoka was suddenly right in front of them, his face glowing with crazed pleasure as he ploughed straight into Phinx and Machi. Powerful arms wrapped around the two of them as Hisoka laughed hysterically.

"Dan…!" Phinx managed to say before Hisoka took the two of them out of the window.

Immediately, Franklin, Kuroro and Kalluto rushed to the window.

Several stories down, Kuroro saw Machi and Phinx detach themselves from Hisoka's death grip. The tiny figures then turned on Hisoka together. As far as he could tell, they didn't seem to be injured. "They are fine," Kuroro said.

"We are leaving them?" Kalluto asked.

"They can handle Hisoka," Kuroro said confidently. Hisoka might be strong and insane (never a good combination), but he was still facing off against two Ryodan members. They could take Hisoka on as long as they worked together. Well… if they worked together. If.

"If you say so," Kalluto said dubiously. He turned around and froze, his expression one of surprise.

A shadowy figure detached itself from the shadows and walked towards them, solidifying into the shape of Moonshine. Grinning, he gave them a casual salute, his eyes glowing like a wild dog's in the dark. "Hey," he said casually, even as his Nen swelled. "What's up, Kito's fuck-toy."

Kuroro felt his jaw set. Another lie Midoya had told. "Hisoka, I can understand," he said deliberately, "but you? I thought you hated Midoya. What did she offer you in return for your help?"

A stricken look spread over Moonshine's face. "I can't believe I am saying this, but… the same as Hisoka," he muttered, looking utterly humiliated.

"Shame on you," Kuroro said without any heat, but Moonshine's sallow complex flushed red anyway. "Midoya asked the two of you to separate the Ryodan, didn't she?"

Moonshine shrugged. "The Ryodan works best as a group," he said. "Makes sense to break it up."

"That's understandable," Kuroro said, looking around. "I don't suppose Pepeka is going to turn up next, is he?"

"Nah, that kid's too soft," Moonshine said dismissively. "I doubt Kito even told him we're here."

"Oh, good because I don't like bullying children." Kuroro regarded Moonshine blandly. "Franklin, Kalluto, kill him. I'm going up to find Midoya."

"On it," Franklin said, and the tips of his fingers separated. "Come on, kid, let's get this motherfucker."

Kalluto blinked. "I thought you were the polite guy," he said idly, just as Franklin threw back his head and laughed manically as he started firing at Moonshine.

"Go, Dancho!" Franklin shouted, as Moonshine dodged the Nen bullets. "Go find Kito!"

With a nod, Kuroro sprinted forward blindly, trusting Franklin not to hit him. He flipped over once, twice, and he was at the base of the stairs. For a brief instant, he felt Moonshine's Nen right behind him, reaching out to grab him, but Kalluto's Nen flared briefly and he heard Moonshine curse as he was yanked away violently. Kuroro ignored them all, trusting his Ryodan to deal with the threat.

Grimly, he pounded up the stairs, drawing on his Nen as he did. He knew how strong Midoya was, knew the kind of power she could call upon if she truly wanted him dead. He had one chance, and one chance only, and that was to take her down before she got serious. He had to do it, had to kill her before she realised the fight was on.

Readying his Nen, Kuroro burst onto the roof – and walked into the most beautiful nightmare he had ever seen.

* * *

Later, when asked what he remembered about the fight, Kuroro started with the moon. It was a full moon, large and low in the sky, shining through the clear skies like a giant orb of pure madness.

The next thing he recalled was Midoya, drenched in blood and smiling up at the moon.

* * *

"Fuck you, Hisoka!"

Phinx dropped to a crouch, barely low enough to avoid a roundabout kick by Hisoka then lashed out as fast as he could. But even though he knew he was physically stronger than Hisoka, he was evidently not as fast, because the slime ball wriggled away like a snake.

"Missed," Hisoka giggled. "Ah, I should have aimed for Kuroro just now, but I figured I've already tasted Kuroro once before so I should try something new."

"That is sick," Phinx grounded through gritted teeth. Hisoka had dragged Machi and him down to a parapet several floors down, and the landing had been difficult. The fall itself hadn't hurt them, not as much as the blows Hisoka had managed to land on them.

"It's not sick," Hisoka protested, eyes widening in mock sadness. "Haven't you ever thought of fighting your precious Dancho? Of pitting your strength against him? Do you know that when you fight a person, you can _taste_ them in their Nen? Aren't you curious what Kuroro tastes like? It's delicious, I assure you." Hisoka's eyes narrowed and his tongue sneaked out to lick his lips. "Absolutely… _delicious_."

"Fuck you, Hisoka!" Machi appeared abruptly behind Hisoka, Nen threads vibrating in the air around her as she slashed out at him.

Hisoka laughed out loud, body twisting into unnatural angles as he dodged the threads. "Impatient, impatient," he leered. "Don't worry, Machi darling, I can't wait to taste you too."

"You're dead meat," Machi said coldly, eyes blazing with fury, as she drew back her fist and socked him in the face.

Hisoka's head snapped back with a loud crack, but his laughter only got louder and more hysterical. "Oh, I like you, Machi," he tittered. "I like you so much I think I want to hurt you." His own fist lashed out, and Machi dodged it nimbly, dropping below his fist and swiping at his feet in a roundabout kick. Hisoka leapt over it and kicked her in the side.

The force of the blow sent her tumbling head over heels into the wall of the parapet, and she hit it hard enough that it started to crack open. Barely pausing to recover, she climbed back to her feet, wiping blood from her mouth as she glared hatefully at Hisoka.

"Machi," Phinx said, coming up next to her. "I hate to say this but…"

"Together," Machi finished, and they charged as one.

"Uh uh," Hisoka scolded, waving a disapproving finger at them. "Play fair children."

"Fuck you," Phinx muttered and they were on him.

Phinx dropped low, striking at Hisoka's knees with sharp kicks while Machi launched a flurry of punches at Hisoka, forcing him to backpedal to avoid their combined attacks. His smile faltered for a second, and he leapt backwards, trying to put some distance between them. However, Machi did not let up; she continued to pursue him, alternately lashing out with fists and thread. Phinx came close behind, powerful hands meeting Hisoka's flesh with heavy thumps, and it was Hisoka's turn to fly into the wall of the parapet.

Giggling, he flowed back to his feet, licking blood off his lips. "Oh _yes_, this is much better," he breathed, eyes glowing madly in the night, "much, much better. But no… not supposed to do this. Not supposed to lose control. Not supposed to want to… _end this…_"

Machi stared. "What?" she demanded. "What do you mean by that?"

Hisoka's smile widened. "You are so beautiful, Machi," he purred and pointed a finger at her. "So _beautiful_."

Abruptly, Machi was dragged off her feet and thrown into Phinx – hard.

"Fuck!" Phinx swore as he tumbled into the parapet wall. "What the fuck, Machi?" He looked up and saw Machi staring in pure fury at her side where a sticky strand of Nen clung to her.

"Bungee Gum," Hisoka purred. "It has both the qualities of rubber and gum. I can stick it to you and keep you close to me forever or…" Machi gasped as she was pulled off her feet again "I can throw you as far as I want when I get sick of you."

This time, Phinx managed to dodge before Machi hit him. He rolled back to his feet, spitting curses. "I'm gonna get you, Hisoka," he snarled, trying to keep an eye on both Machi and Hisoka at the same time.

"Oh _you_," Hisoka giggled, and swung his arm again. A surprised look formed on his face when Machi didn't immediately lift off her feet.

"Got you," Machi growled, her hands glowing with Nen as they wrapped around the Bungee Gum attached to her. Her muscles bulged as she strained against Hisoka's strength. "Get him, Phinx!" she shouted. "I've got this!"

"Fuck yeah!" Phinx hissed and charged at Hisoka, drawing back his sleeve as he did. "I'm gonna turn you to mush, you fucking bastard!"

The surprised look on Hisoka's face turned to one of pleasure. "I would like that," he purred, and swung his other fist at Phinx.

This time, Phinx was prepared, and he saw the Nen wrapped around Hisoka's fist. Swiftly, he dodged the blow, avoiding the Bungee Gum, and swung his fist as hard as he could at Hisoka. Laughing hysterically, Hisoka avoided the blow and pulled harder on the Nen attached to Machi. Machi made a strained sound as she started to slide forward.

"Phinx!" she shouted.

"Just a while more…" Phinx growled.

"'isoka!"

All three fighters froze in place at the unexpected sound. At the same moment, Nobunaga erupted from the corridor behind them, looking like he had been through Hell and back. His nose was obviously broken and there was bloody foam around his mouth, but he ran forward anyway, drawing his sword as he did.

"'isoka!" he screamed, his voice horrendously nasal.

"Whoa!" Phinx gasped, as Nobunaga barrelled past him. "What the fuck, man! I was fighting him… Holy shit, what happened to you?"

"Fought 'i'ita 'imbal," Nobunaga breathed. It was painful to hear him speak.

"And what, you lost?"

"Vorse."

"Worse?"

"She's maweed!" Nobunaga wailed.

Even Hisoka paused to stare in bemusement at the obviously stricken Nobunaga. Then the moment broke and the battle was on.

* * *

The entire corridor was close to collapsing which was not good. Franklin had a brief moment to wish that Hisoka had taken him instead of Phinx or Machi, since he did so much better in wide, open spaces than narrow, enclosed places like this. But, things had not happened that way, so here he was now, tearing up the corridor with his Nen bullets as the Hunter in front of them weaved and wove and dodged all their attacks by the barest margins.

"Come on," Moonshine drawled insolently, "this all you guys got? Some A-class criminals you Ryodan are." He grinned fiercely at them, hands curled into dangerous-looking claws.

"How rude," Kalluto commented primly, fan pressed to his lips.

"Rude indeed," Franklin said gravely. "We shall need to teach him a lesson, a hard and painful lesson."

"Of course," Kalluto said, sounding pleased with that idea. "Cover me please, Franklin."

With dainty, delicate steps, Kalluto sprinted forward, sleeves flowing elegantly as he whipped his fan in Moonshine's direction. Tiny pieces of paper fluttered in the air, and Moonshine back-paddled immediately, a look of intense suspicion on his face.

Smirking, Kalluto flung more paper bits at him, and Moonshine drew back even more. "Are you scared of getting a paper cut?" Kalluto asked innocently. "Some great Hunter you are."

"Heard they are the most painful wounds ever," Moonshine replied, Nen pulsating in the dark. "Wouldn't want to have to go through _that_."

Kalluto's smirk widen. "I think it's too late to worry about that. There," he murmured, pointing at Moonshine's arm. Moonshine over at the tiny piece of paper caught in the fabric of his sweater.

His eyes went back to Kalluto. "Ah fuck," he said then screamed when a mass of paper tunnelled into his arm, severing it until it hung together only by the thinnest strip of skin. "Fuck!" he gasped, gripping the bloody stump. "Fuck, fuck!"

Kalluto smiled as Franklin gave a low whistle of appreciation. "Nice one," Franklin said, coming over and raising his hand to point a glowing finger at Moonshine. "We're lucky we got the weak one here. Let's kill him and get to Dancho."

A wide smile, filled with agony and anger spread over Moonshine's face. "Not so easy, kids," he snarled, breathing hard as he lowered himself into a fighter's crouch. "I've still got some fight left in me, kiddos."

"Ah." Kalluto cleared his throat delicately and pointed to Moonshine's other arm, where another piece of paper lay.

Moonshine's eyes widened. "Oh shit," he snarled just as Kalluto raised his paper fan. Quickly, he ripped the sleeve off, taking the paper with it, so when Kalluto brought his fan down, all he destroyed was a piece of wool.

Kalluto pursed his lips in disapproval as Franklin rumbled, "Smart," and fired a hail of Nen bullets at the bleeding figure before them.

Cursing, Moonshine leapt upwards, pressing himself against the ceiling where Franklin couldn't shoot him without risking the entire corridor collapsing on them. With the claws on his one remaining hand dug into the concrete, Moonshine paused briefly before springing forward, intending to take out the younger Ryodan member first.

"You underestimate me," Kalluto said, eyes narrowing as he raised his fan.

And at that instant, just before they clashed, a monstrous amount of energy swelled up above them, shaking the entire mansion to its foundation.

* * *

The unexpected vision before him took his breath away and froze him in his steps.

Kuroro had never thought of Midoya as a beautiful woman. Far from it, in fact; he was well aware that most people would consider Midoya a plain-looking woman, even ugly. Yes, he was attracted to her, but he would admit readily that his attraction to her had little to do with her physical body other than the fact that it provided him with pretty good sex. But at that moment, standing under the moonlight, her pale skin glowing white, her dark hair floating around her, her eyes gleaming dark silver and her entire body drenched in blood, Kuroro genuinely thought that she looked beautiful, surreal, like an angel of death walking among the corpses of men.

"Kuroro, my dear," she said softly, and Kuroro remembered to breathe again. "So you've found me. I was hoping you wouldn't and I was hoping you would. Well done."

"Thank you," he replied, stepping forward. As he did, the dismembered body of Armando Basilio, splattered all over the roof, came into sight. "I see you have completed the mission."

"Most successfully," she agreed, turning to face him. Her eyes were pure silver in the moonlight and the blades protruding from the palms of her hand gleamed. "Are you here to kill me?" she asked whimsically.

Kuroro watched her face carefully but saw nothing but genuine calm and sated bloodlust. "Yes," he told her. "I am here to kill you."

She smiled at him, a faint smile that held no regrets and no sadness. "That is my Kuroro," she said fondly. "You must be really angry with me now. Will it make you happier if I told you I have never loved you?"

Kuroro thought about that. "No," he told her honestly, and her smile widened. "It's so easy to love and be loved. I would like to believe I meant more than that to you," he finished and she laughed.

"You do, Kuroro, even now you still do. That is why this was all worth it," she said, stepping towards him. "Come, my not-beloved. Let us draw blood."

"Let's," Kuroro agreed – and teleported her over the side of the roof.

He had only half-expected that to work, so he wasn't really surprised when a white mist surged back over the edge and swirled around him. The remains of the shirt on his back sizzled as the poisonous, acidic mist that was Midoya embraced him. Immediately, Kuroro rolled to the ground as if he were on fire and trying to put it out. Tumbling, he rolled over the ice-cold roof before standing up, only to find the white mist floating above him, waiting like a hungry predator.

Now, even his hair was starting to fry as he tried to roll out of the white mist encasing him. However, no matter what he did, the mist clung to him like condensation on glass. Tme to change tactics.

Nimbly, his fingers found the correct page, and he whipped out the Fun Fun cloth, swivelling it around until the white mist dissipated and reformed a distance away. He prepared to capture her in the Cloth if she rushed at him, but she didn't. Instead, Midoya reappeared, silver blades flashing in the moonlight as she danced towards him in her partial Yang-form.

Despite the number of times he had seen her fight, Kuroro had only fought her once before, when he had lost his temper during the hunt for the Jyonen-user. At that time, he had thought she had fought him seriously, but now he knew he was wrong. She hadn't been serious in any way whatsoever. She hadn't been as strong as she was now, as agile and as fast.

Dropping into a fighting stance, Kuroro pulled out his Benz knife and charged forward, dodging under the agile swing of her blade. With a quick move, he darted forward, trying to nick her with the blade, but she danced back, twirling elegantly like a ballerina on a dance floor. Kuroro tried again, this time jumping up so he could swing downwards at her, but she flicked the knife out of his hand so it flew to some distant corner. Then she raised the blade in her right hand and thrust straight at him.

Whipping out his poisonous katana, Kuroro met her blade straight on, absorbing the blow the best he could with only one hand. Her face was inches from his now, and she was smiling widely. Kuroro felt himself smile back despite the throbbing in his aching muscles. Then Midoya swung her other blade down and Kuroro jumped back, avoiding being sliced in half by mere inches. Immediately, she swung her first blade up in a graceful arc, and Kuroro was forced to parry with his katana.

Midoya grinned and sped up her attacks. For a while, they danced together in a quick thrust and parry, dodging, attacking, blocking with stunning elegance as they glided across the roof together, blades turning into near invisible flashes of light. But that went nowhere, so Kuroro changed tactics, dropping as low as he could to the ground, and sweeping the katana in a wide, horizontal slash. Without missing a beat, Midoya flipped backwards, jumping over his swing and swinging her blades together towards him in a pincer attack.

Kuroro bent backwards, as far as his back would go, and the blades swept over him like twin crescent moons in the dark. When the blades crossed, he dropped to his knees again and thrust straight at Midoya's stomach. She dodged it by dancing nimbly to the side, and she turned her blades on him again. This time, Kuroro didn't wait for the blades to descend. Instead, he kicked out with his foot, aiming for her ankles. Taken by surprise, Midoya was knocked off balance, but before he could attack her, she had rolled away until she reached the edge of the roof.

And even though she had been forced to retreat, even though she had almost died, Midoya laughed, a clear, delighted laugh of pure elation that rang like a bell in the quiet, cold night.

A low, masculine chuckle filled the air, and Kuroro realised it had come from him. He was enjoying this fight, enjoying it as much as she was. He couldn't remember the last time he had so much fun. Midoya was a real challenge, a truly powerful fighter, and he had to use his all just to match her blow for blow. But… it was more. It was… the element of play in the way she fought, the way she took such child-like delight in every move that made her so appealing to fight with. She was playing with him, as he was with her, a dangerous, playful game of life and death.

Midoya leapt to her feet, Yang blades held in front of her, and she charged forward, laughing gleefully. Kuroro met her mid-way across the roof, laughing along with her. Grinning with delight, they circled each other, blades disappearing as they thrust at each other, parrying and attacking faster than the eye could see. Their eyes met and they held the stare, gazing deeply into each other's souls as they danced across the roof together, laughing breathlessly like children chasing each other in a playground.

Time slowed down, and Kuroro forgot entirely why he was here. Memories faded; the past disappearing with each attack. Plans and schemes vanished, passing from their minds into the cool night air, for the future had no place here. All that mattered was the _now_, the clash of metal against metal, the sound of their harsh breathing as they pushed themselves to their limits, the burning in his muscles as they leapt and twirled, dodged and rolled. All that mattered was that she remained here forever, whirling next to him in this deadly dance under the brilliant Agocchian moon.

It was better than sex, more intense than sex. Their souls were bared before each other, reaching out and merging like miasmas over a swamp. It was madness, it was insanity, and it was so addictive.

They lost themselves in the rhythm of the dance, lost their selves and lost their minds. They had entered a dream where reality didn't matter, where life didn't matter. It was the only excuse Kuroro could think of to explain what happened next.

Even as their Nen surged and clashed against each other like two tidal waves meeting in the open seas, Kuroro had been dimly aware, and he knew Midoya was too, that this battle would not be won that way. They were too evenly matched when it came to Nen. It didn't seem to matter though. Winning wasn't on the agenda; feeling their strength met with equal strength was, immersing themselves in the heat of the battle was. Hence, when Midoya suddenly drew a throwing knife, barely infused with any Nen, Kuroro had joined her, whipping out his spare blade. Before she could throw her blade, he struck first, burying the blade all the way to the hilt in her ribs.

Midoya had cried out as blood spilled from her mouth, and out of the corner of his eye, Kuroro saw her arm flex instinctively.

The first thing that gave away the fact that all was not right was the gentle thud against his chest. Even though the blow hadn't been very hard, it seemed to draw all the warmth out of his body and turn his limbs to ice. Then the pain came, a horrible, dull, aching pain.

Slowly, Kuroro looked down, and even though his enemy was still in front of him, even though the fight was still on, all he could stare at was the throwing knife buried into his heart.

* * *

The spell broke.

Kuroro gawked at the hilt of the blade protruding from his chest.

For a moment, he couldn't believe it. There was a _knife in his heart_. Shouldn't he be dropping dead right about now? Was his heart still pumping? He couldn't tell. There was some blood, but not the geyser of blood he would expect from a wound like this. There was just a trickle of blood, leaking out from below the hilt. Was that normal? How odd. He had done his fair share of stabbing people in the heart before, and none of their wounds had looked like that.

Still wearing an expression of pure surprise, Kuroro looked up and found Midoya staring with him with an identical expression on her face.

"Kuroro!" she cried, and Kuroro thought he had never heard her sound so dismayed. "Why on earth didn't you _dodge_?"

Kuroro stared. Was she blaming him because she stabbed him in the heart? That hardly seemed fair. "If you didn't intend it to hit me then why on earth did you throw it?" he shot back, and was startled by how raspy his voice sounded.

"I didn't mean to! I was aiming for your arm!" Midoya protested. "Besides, you had no problems avoiding my Yang attacks! Why couldn't you dodge a bloody throwing knife with no Nen in it?"

She actually had a point there, but Kuroro still felt there was something inherently unfair about this situation. "Don't push the blame onto me!" Kuroro thought his voice sounded inappropriately outraged now, but since he was dying, he could probably be forgiven for losing his temper. "You are the one who started this whole thing!"

"Oh, this is rubbish!" Midoya cried. She might have said more, but Kuroro couldn't hear her through the sudden rushing sound in his ears. It was like the ocean had migrated into the space between his brains and was sloshing against the insides of his skull. It made his head feel so heavy.

His eyes fluttered and for a moment his vision cleared. The night sky filled his mind, the moon shining brightly over him and framing Midoya's bloodied face hovering over his in a silver halo. He couldn't read her expression. It wasn't one he had ever seen on her face before. Then her face turned blurry, shadowed by the brilliant moonlight framing her and his goddamned failing vision.

"Kuroro," she murmured, her voice gentle and coaxing, "Kuroro dear, look at me."

"I am looking at you," Kuroro told her, confused.

"_Look_ at me," she repeated with more force and Kuroro blinked until his vision cleared. It didn't seem nice to shout at a dying man but that woman could be a true tyrant when she wanted to be.

He could see her face clearly now. She looked calm, her mind far away as if she were scheming something deviously complex, but controlled anger shimmered in her aura. He couldn't really blame her. He was somewhat angry that he was dying in such a ridiculous fashion too. "Hello," he said weakly, and she looked back at him.

"Hello," she replied, smiling. Firmly, her hands gripped his and warmth flowed into his arms. His heart thumped suddenly, and pain coursed through his chest, making him gasp. Warmth spread over his chest too, and wet, hot liquid scalded his skin as it pumped out of the wound. "Kuroro dear, listen to me."

Hey, who gave her the right to keep giving him orders? Kuroro briefly considered passing out just to spite her, but it occurred to his greying mind that what she had to say might actually help him survive. "Yeah," he mumbled. It was the best he could manage. There was blood welling up at the back of his throat.

"I'm channelling my Nen into you to keep you alive," she told him. "But that's not going to last for long. Truthfully, I blew a lot of Nen fighting you and Armando. We need to get the wound in your chest patched up. The knife is plugging up the wound for now, but you're still bleeding out."

Hmm. That made sense to him. "Machi," he mumbled.

"She's here?"

Kuroro actually had to think about that. "Yeah."

Midoya's eyes went to the entrance, her eyes calm and calculating. "She's several floor down, I can carry you," she said, but she sounded doubtful. It was a long walk down, and he had a knife in his heart. Once she lifted him up, the knife would dig into the surrounding flesh, which would be the rest of his heart.

"Call?" Kuroro managed to choke out. He was going to start drowning in his own blood if she didn't do something quick.

"She's in the middle of a fight, and with Hisoka too, I think; she wouldn't stop to answer her phone."

Ah. Good point.

Midoya's hands let go of his to grip his shoulders. "I'm going to move you," she murmured in his ear. "It's going to hurt."

She moved him. It hurt.

Even as he felt Midoya fumble to lift him over her shoulders in a fireman's carry, Kuroro knew it was not going to work. With every move she made, however gentle she was, the knife jarred in his flesh, moving and expanding his wound. When she turned him around so he faced the floor, he could see how much blood he had lost. With that much blood loss, he was going to pass out and he was not going to wake up again.

Without even thinking about it, Kuroro felt Nen flood his fingers, forming the comforting weight of his book in his hand. In the distant background, he heard Midoya gasp at the sudden increase in Nen being drawn from her rapidly dwindling sources. His fingers found the page he was looking for and…

_Zip_. His world was turning grey. His own Nen was all but out, but he could still feel the warm, familiar source gripping his arms tightly. He knew that energy, had felt it so often it almost felt like his own. He knew its taste, every single nuance to it. He could use it. "We're halfway to the top of the stairs," he heard Midoya say through clenched teeth.

Right. Again.

_Zip_. He heard Midoya groan as they disappeared and reappeared again. "At the top of the stairs," Midoya gasped, and she sounded like she was in pain.

_Zip_.

"M… more. We're too high up."

_Zip_.

"T… two more floors… down."

This time Midoya screamed when he sucked her Nen out of her. The quality of the Nen flowing into him changed. It was… richer, denser, and much sweeter. It tasted like Midoya when she kissed him in the middle of sex, her mouth hot and hungry and passionate. It smelled like her after she had been in the sun for a while, of sunscreen, sweat and heat. It felt like her skin against his, warm, soft and comforting, as they nestled together in bed discussing something they had just read. It was her life essence, he realised. He had used up the excess Nen she had and was now drawing on her life source.

"Twenty feet…" he heard Midoya wheeze, "at two o'clock… one floor down."

One last try. They had one last try then she would be dry. Or dead. One or the other. Just like him.

The world disappeared in a swirl of white and when it reappeared again, the warmth in his arms faded away. A heavy weight thudded against his stomach, cold as ice and as empty as a vacuum. Around him, familiar voices shouted words he could not hear. Warm hands gripped him and pain, horrible, jarring pain shot through his chest.

He wanted to open his eyes, wanted to see what was happening, but his eyelids were so heavy. Distantly, he heard someone call him. His Ryodan was calling him. He should respond, but he was so tired. Let Shalnark deal with them. For now, he just wanted to rest. Sleep sounded so good…

With a soft sigh, Kuroro let his Nen book disappear as he fell into a deep, dark abyss of unconsciousness.

* * *

A/N: This particular story should end in the next chapter. I hope this chapter was good; I haven't had the chance to really edit it properly, so please forgive me for any stupid mistakes made. Many thanks to the readers who have expressed their well-wishes for me. I really appreciate the concern. Unfortunately, the problem in my life at the moment isn't going to go away anytime soon, but we take what life gives as it gives, and hopefully survive it.

Trivial: Prior the attack on the Basilio mansion, Kuroro had taken a walk around the hotel in an attempt to work out the kink in his back from rough sex with Midoya. While strolling through a park, he had been hailed by a fortune-teller, an old man with a heavy beard. Curiosity had led him to agree to a quick palm-reading.

The old man had peered at the lines on his hand, frowned deeply, muttered darkly to himself then reported, "You are very prone to problems of the heart. This will be the case especially in the near future."

Kuroro had smiled, paid up, and left, shaking his head at how clichéd and inaccurate that prophecy was. You can't have problems of the heart if you don't have affairs of the heart after all.

Much later, as he lay on the roof of the Basilio mansion bleeding into Midoya's arms, he couldn't help laughing at how true that prophecy turned out to be.


	11. The End

A/N: This is the sequel to A Series of Politically Inappropriate Happenings. This story will be a little different from the previous two (which were quite different from the first installment of The Series). It was inspired by two things: first, a desire to try a slightly different genre other than Humour (a more serious one, one might say) and second, the criticism that Kuroro's relationship with Midoya is a little too perfect.

**To Guest**: You are most welcome! I'm just glad you enjoy my stories.

Disclaimer:I do not own Hunter X Hunter and all the characters affiliated with the manga/anime. All OCs are mine, which is something. The views stated by the characters do not always reflect the views of the author either. All characters and settings in this story are fictional.

* * *

__  
The End: Adding Up the Scores

_It was raining heavily, like the millions of angels sitting in the clouds were crying. Ideal weather, Neville McGraw thought, for the occasion._

_Standing in his black suit and holding a black umbrella, Neville watched the caskets being lowered into the shared grave with great sadness. Though he hadn't been close to them, he had been the lawyer for Mahou and Miharu Kito for a good four decades. Even if all the conversations they had was purely about business, he had still known the man, had spoken to him and his wife. They had seemed nice… always so polite and articulate. _

_Besides, Neville glanced at the tiny figure standing right next to the grave, there was still their child, their one and only child from what seemed to be a very loving marriage. The poor child, for this to have happened to her, she must be suffering. Truthfully, Neville knew little about the child herself. What he did know spoke only of tragedy. She was only ten, but she had spent three years living in a mental asylum. For what, Neville had, bewilderingly, been unable to uncover. Then… there had been that incident at the asylum. Neville winced. He was pretty certain he could have made a case for self-defence in the court of law if he had been able to find out how she had gotten the gun that she had shot her uncle with. The child wouldn't answer any of the questions he asked her. He hadn't even managed to get her to speak beyond the minimum required for basic communication. That alone had made him uncomfortable enough to cover up the incident. Personally, he didn't think she did much wrong. Her parents had been murdered in a very brutal and grotesque way. She hadn't done anything wrong defending herself from that same fate. _

_Somehow, the child sensed his eyes on her, and she tilted her face slightly to look at him. Slightly embarrassed at being caught staring, Neville offered her a kind smile. He couldn't see her expression from under the translucent black veil she was wearing, but he thought she might have smiled back. He hoped she did. From the time he picked her up at the asylum till now, he hadn't seen any expression on her unnaturally blank face. He wasn't sure if that was due to her mental condition, whatever it was, or just how she was normally. It didn't suit her though; young children shouldn't look so serious all the time. _

_Finally, the caskets were buried and the crowd was starting to disperse. Neville turned to join them, but saw that the child remained standing there, gazing upon the fresh grave. Hesitantly, he walked up to her, unwilling to disturb her mourning but uncomfortable with leaving her here alone. _

_For what seemed like an eternity, they stood there together until the crowd had disappeared entirely and all that was left was the rain pouring around them. Then very softly, almost inaudibly, the child said, "Mir McGraw, you are my lawyer, are you not?" _

"_Yes, Miss Kito," he replied gravely, though he thought it silly to address a child as such. _

"_That means you will do everything I pay you to do?" she asked. _

"_Well… yes," Neville replied hesitantly. _

"_And based on client confidentiality, you cannot reveal to anyone what I say now." _

"_Yes," Neville replied and his level of discomfort rose. He had not expected a child to know something like that. _

"_Good," the child replied softly. With a careless gesture, she dropped her umbrella to the ground and lifted the veil. Her face was calm and her eyes dry. "Mother," she said quietly as the rain washed over her tiny, plump form, "I am sad that you are gone. I loved you, Mother. You were not, perhaps, the paramount example of motherhood, but you did the best that you knew how. It was not much, but I can at least acknowledge that." Gracefully, she lowered herself to the ground and kissed it. Standing up, she looked at the grave and said, "Father, I believe I loved you once, but now, I am glad you are dead." She stopped and the expression on her face changed so suddenly Neville stepped back in shock. "I killed you, Father, did you know that? No, of course not. You think Uncle killed you, but Uncle was just my pawn. Even from the confines of the hell you put me in, I reached out and killed you." Her face contorted into an expression so violent and hate-filled that Neville froze in terror. "I hate you, Father. I detest you. From the bottom of what remains of my heart, I despise you, you sick bastard," she whispered, her eyes glowing unnaturally in the dark. "Do you think you have escaped me now that you are dead? No, Father. Death is not enough for you. I will have my revenge in full. I will torment you even as you lie out of my reach. Everything that you wished me to never be, everything that you wished to take from me, everything that you wished to inflict on me, I spurn. And when I next see you, Father, how I shall enjoy the agony on your face when you see what I have done." _

_A skull-like smile, as cold as death, spread across her face as she gently lowered herself to the ground and kissed it. _

"_Mr McGraw," she murmured and Neville gave a tiny scream of terror. "You saw the pictures of my parents' corpses, did you not?" _

"_Y… yes," he whispered shakily. _

_The smile was turned on him and Neville's bowels loosened. "If you ever tell anyone what I've just said," she whispered, "I will do the same to you. Do you understand?" _

_His legs shook so hard he could hardly stand, so he lowered himself to his knees. "I… I understand," he managed to say. _

"_Thank you, Mr McGraw," the child said. Then she walked up to him and put her tiny arms around his neck. "You are the only one I trust," she whispered in his ear. "You are the only one I can trust. You are the only one I must trust. You know everything I need to know. You will help me build my empire. You will teach me everything I need to know about this business. You are very important to me, Mr McGraw. I love you. Please love me back." _

_Without thought, his arms went around her. "I love you too," he whispered, patting her wet hair. "I love you very much, child. I promise that I will love you forever." _

_They stayed there for another ten minutes before they finally left, but to Neville McGraw, he never truly left that cemetery. Even as he lay on his deathbed, holding the pale, cold hand in his and feeling those cool black eyes on him, he knew that a part of him had never let go of the deathly cold child he had held that day. The gentle pressure of her arms against him, the spells that was her voice and the black hole that was her soul had drawn him in and captured him for eternity. Surprisingly, it wasn't a thought that bothered him. _

_As he drew his last breath, he could only think of how pleased he was that he held true to his promise even to the bitter end. _

* * *

When he finally crawled out of the abyss that was the sleep of the almost-dead, the first thought on Kuroro's mind was that the sun was trying to kill him.

Groaning, Kuroro tried to put his hands over his eyes. Even with his eyes closed, the sun shining in his face was blinding all the same. But his hands wouldn't move. Was he tied down? That would be quite inconvenient. He needed to block out the sun before he went blind. Death, he could deal with; not being able to read for the rest of his life would be unbearable.

Kuroro tried wriggling around a little bit and discovered that he wasn't tied down. Instead, his arms were held down by the immense weight of a thin blanket.

"_Ah Dancho!" _

Oh, how awful. Whoever was shouting needed to stop it. His head was starting to pound.

"_Dancho, are you awake? Is he awake? I heard him make a sound!" _

"_Christ! Will you stop it? You've been asking the same question for days! There's no point bothering Dancho all the time. Let him rest, wouldn't you?" _

"_Just let me take a look, damn it!"_

A finger prodded his cheek cautiously and Kuroro sighed inwardly. There could only be one person.

With a great effort of will, Kuroro forced his eyelids to open… _oh the blazing sun_… and closed them again.

"Dancho!" Now the voice was recognisable as Nobunaga's. "You're awake! Dancho!"

Kuroro coughed weakly, tasting dried blood and vomit. "Nobu," he managed to rasp.

"Yeah?" He felt Nobunaga move closer to him. "What is it, Dancho?"

"Shut up," Kuroro whispered and passed out.

When he next opened his eyes, he was propped up against Nobunaga and Machi was holding a glass of water with a straw in it to his lips. "Hey Dancho," she said when his eyes opened. "Take a sip."

Kuroro did so and promptly threw up on the blanket.

"Try again," Machi said without even grimacing. A stomach of steel, that woman. Or maybe she was just used to it. He had a feeling he had made quite a mess of himself while he was unconscious.

Kuroro sucked gently on the straw again, and this time the water stayed down. His throat burned with thirst and he wanted to drink more, but his stomach couldn't take much more than a few sips. When he let go of the straw, Machi put the glass down and opened the front of his shirt with clinical detachment.

"Good, your wound stayed closed," she said coolly. "It was a close call. When I pulled out the knife, your heart collapsed and stopped for several minutes. It took us a while to restart it and I don't know what kind of damage that did to your brain. Hell, for all we know, you're a fucking vegetable and everything I'm saying now just sounds like fiddles to you."

"Kind of you," Kuroro managed to say in appreciation of her care and concern. A look of relief flooded her face and she blinked rapidly a few times.

"No problem, Dancho. Just didn't want to lose you right after we got you back from the chain-user," she said with a brisk nod. "You're in Meteor City now; in District Ten. You were out for an entire month and some. All of us were here for the first few weeks, but once it seemed you were stable, Shalnark sent them off. Only Feitan, Franklin, Nobu, Shal and I are here." All that was left of the original members and his second-in-command.

Kuroro greatly appreciated the update, but there was more he wanted to know.

As if reading his mind, Machi continued, "Armando Basilio is dead." She offered him more water. "The Basilio estate collapsed with his death and some Federico kid from York Shin took over by killing the well… they're kind of like the Board of Directors of the Basilio estate. Moonshine, Hisoka and Timbal's sister got away with Kito." A pregnant pause. "I… erm… no one's sure if Kito was alive when Kikita Timbal carried her off. There was a dagger stuck in her side and there was blood everywhere. My guess is, it might have hit a couple of internal organs. And uh… she drained herself dry to get you to us. When we pulled her off you… well, I can't say for sure if her heart was still beating." Another pause. "They left by helicopter. Will you believe it? One of them, probably Moonshine, had actually arranged for a helicopter for them and hidden it near Basilio's. Have to wonder how the hell they managed that."

Ah ha! So he was right about Midoya's route of escape, Kuroro thought victoriously, and passed out again.

* * *

When he next woke up, the sun was no longer shining in his face, and his arms no longer felt weighted down by the blankets. With some effort, he managed to roll over on his side and push himself to a sitting position. A quick glance around the rundown room told him that he was lying on a makeshift bed of dried grass covered with blankets. It looked like Base Four in District Ten, but he couldn't be sure. All the buildings in Meteor City looked the same after a while.

The worm-eaten door opened and Shalnark walked in with a bowl of hot soup in his hand. "Ah Dancho!" he exclaimed, looking delighted. "You're awake! I thought you were when I heard you moving around. This is great! Feitan made some soup for you. See if you can try eating some?"

Soup? The idea made his stomach turn but he nodded anyway. Feitan was an excellent cook after all, though there wasn't much to work with in a place like Meteor City. He hoped it wasn't rat. He hated rat meat.

Fortunately, the soup turned out to be chicken soup. How Feitan had found fresh chicken in Meteor City would be one of life's greatest mysteries.

"Say 'ah'," Shalnark clucked motherly, holding out a spoonful of soup.

"Ah," Kuroro intoned dryly and accepted the mouthful of soup. As he stomach tried to decide whether it was going to keep the soup down or regurgitate it, Kuroro asked, "Have you found out what happened to Midoya? I mean… Kito."

Shalnark blinked in surprise, but Kuroro wasn't sure if it was at his question or at the change in the way he addressed Midoya. "Uh yeah," Shalnark said awkwardly. "She survived. It's all over the Web now. '_Rich Heiress Returns Safely With Family Heirloom'_ and all that tabloid rubbish. She's got the Infinity Gem. Her position as Head of the Kito estate is stronger than ever."

"Oh," Kuroro replied and couldn't decide if he was irritated or pleased. As he was still thinking about it, Shalnark fed him more soup.

"By the way, you've got mail," Shalnark told him.

Kuroro blinked. "Mail?" he questioned around a mouthful of mushy vegetable. "You mean like letters?" That was a strange and bizarre concept in the world of emails and instant messaging.

Beaming, Shalnark reached into his pocket and pulled out a bundle of envelopes. "Wanna read them?" he asked cheerfully.

The first letter, to his surprise, was from Pepeka. It read: _"My sis said you got hurt on a mission with sensei. You idiots should have called me up. Whatever, man. Hope you get well soon. We can have drinks together the next time you're in York Shin. Pepeka."_

"Guess Kito never told him about what she did," Shalnark mused.

No, of course not, Kuroro thought. Midoya wouldn't have called Pepeka up, not when her plan involved backstabbing the Ryodan. Pepeka might be able to accept the assassination of a mafia boss with some persuasion, but the betrayal of his friends? No way. No matter how persuasive Midoya was, she would never have gotten him to agree to that. That must be the real reason she refused to bring Pepeka on this mission.

To his even greater surprise, the back of Pepeka's letter had a note from Kikita. "_Sorry about stabbing you in the back_," Kuroro read. "_Midoya's my girl and I hardly know you so you can't blame me, right? Smiley face. Still, I like you and hope there are no hard feelings between us. If I ever get a divorce with John, I'll totally bonk you. Just so you know. Anyway, I'll do you a favour since you helped get rid of Armando Basilio and you killed Decimal. Hope you get better soon. John sends his love. PS: Where did you buy your faux leather coat? John loves it and wants to try dressing like you. Now that he's no longer pretending to be a sweetie, he wants to experiment with the bondage fashion stuff. Isn't that cool and all?_"

"That's nice of her," Shalnark commented. "She's actually really sweet. She helped us arrange transport to get you out of Agocchi without alerting anybody. Did you know Nobunaga fell in love with her? He was torn up when he found out she's married."

"Oh… that's…" But since Kuroro had no idea what that was, he just shut up.

"I'm sure he'll get over it," Shalnark said with a shrug. "You know… as long as you don't mention the part about Kikita Timbal being head over heels in lust with you."

"I'm sure too." Kuroro frowned at the third letter. The emblem of the Hunter Association was blazed across the top right-hand corner of the envelope. Cautiously, he opened the envelope and pulled out the letter. _"Dear Kuroro Lucifer (Dancho), this is Piyon of the Zodiac Twelve writing on behalf of said group. We have learned, through first-hand accounts, that you have been betrayed and almost killed by Two Star Blacklist Hunter Midoya. On behalf of the Hunter Association, we would like to offer you our most sincere congratulations on joining the ranks of the Hall of Endless Shame, a prestigious position the Zodiac Twelve had established ten years back for the poor idiots who were dumb enough to actually date Midoya Kito. You will find your medal in the envelope with this letter. Furthermore, being the only boyfriend of Midoya's to date to survive her wrath, the Zodiac Twelve have decided to confer onto you the title of 'Poor Fucker Who Has to Live With the Shame'. The accompanying medal can also be found in this letter. We offer you the best wishes in your future endeavours and hope you will apply better sense when searching for your next girlfriend, that is, if Midoya hasn't really castrated you this time. Regards. Piyon (Rabbit)."_

Shalnark smartly did not comment as Kuroro calmly tore the letter up, stuffed it back into the envelope with the two medals, and told Shalnark to burn the whole thing.

The last letter was in an elegant cream envelope. The handwriting on the back was neat, precise and vaguely familiar. It screamed of a very expensive education. Kuroro tore it open and glanced at it. _"Dear Nicholas, I assure you June never meant to hurt you. Annabella Dunstan."_ Kuroro blinked. He hadn't expected that.

Turning the letter over, he saw there was more. _"PS,"_ the postcript read,_ "This letter is poisoned. You will be dead in two hours, you cheating whore."_

His insides, still achy from his near-death experience, groaned with exhaustion. "Oh bugger me," Kuroro sighed and passed out again.

* * *

When Kuroro recovered from the poison three days later, the first thing he did was call the Ryodan members present to him.

"Ryodan, I have a new mission," he announced as Shalnark fed him more chicken soup.

"New mission?" Shalnark asked. "Should I call the rest back then?"

"Not necessary," Kuroro said, swallowing. "It's six of us against one of her after all."

A tensed silence filled the room as Kuroro sipped more soup.

"Dancho…" Nobu said hesitantly. "Are you uh… suggesting what we think you're suggesting?"

"If you think I'm suggesting we kill Mi… Kito then you are right," Kuroro replied. Shalnark spooned him another mouthful of soup, but in Kuroro's opinion, he was being too slow about it. So he took the bowl from Shalnark and gulped the soup down ravenously. Goodness, he was _starving_ and the soup was excellent.

"Ha, I knew that was going to happen," Feitan said with bland triumph even as Nobunaga threw back his head and howled with frustration.

Eyeing them over the rim of the bowl, Kuroro demanded, "What?" around a mouthful of chicken.

"Why are you going after Kito?" Nobunaga demanded.

That stopped Kuroro's inhalation of the soup. "What do you mean by that?" he asked. "Do you not remember what she did to us? She betrayed the Ryodan. She betrayed me." He stared at the faces staring back at him. "Am I wrong?" he asked, confused. A thought struck him and he asked hopefully, "Did I dream the whole thing?"

"No, you didn't," Franklin reassured him. "It's just… we have been arguing about this issue for weeks now."

"Arguing?" Kuroro asked, still trying to shake off his confusion. "What is there to argue about?"

"Semantics," Feitan snorted, looking down his nose at Nobunaga.

"It's not 'semantics', damn it!" Nobunaga shouted back. "It's important!"

As calmly as he could, Kuroro put down the bowl and fixed the two of them with a stern glare. "Both of you stop shouting," he ordered. When they've subsided, he added, "Shalnark, you explain."

"Well…" Shalnark glanced around at the other members. "Actually, it's better if Franklin explains. Feitan and I are of the same opinion as you, Dancho. We feel that she betrayed the Ryodan. Feitan thinks we should kill her, but I'm on the fence about the issue. If she's not a threat, it's not really that big a deal if we let her go. Franklin, Nobu and Machi just don't think that Kito had really betrayed us."

"Franklin?" Kuroro demanded. "What is this rubbish about Mid… Kito not betraying us?"

Franklin blinked slowly. "Well, technically she didn't," he said blandly.

"What?"

"Kito isn't part of the Ryodan, is she?" Franklin pointed out in a very reasonable tone. "How can she betray the Ryodan if she isn't part of us in the first place?"

"Besides!" Nobunaga piped up stubbornly. "We think that if you count out the score, _you owe her_, Dancho!"

"What?" Kuroro had never thought he would hear his voice go that high, but there it was.

Nobunaga flushed red. "Well," he said slowly. "I mean… first, Dancho, from what we gather, the first time you guys met, she offered you her penthouse. For free. That's one you owe her. Then… um… though you didn't know it then, you attacked her mansion even though you had a truce, so that's two you owe her." Nobunaga's voice was speeding up as Kuroro's expression grew colder. "Then… then… she helped you get back your Nen, for free! That's three you owe her. And I mean, we saved her ass from the Hunter's Association, so that's back to two we owe her. Then now she backstabs you, and so that's one you owe her. And, I guess she almost killed you, which means the odds were even. But then, she almost died saving you. I mean, if you count it out that way, Dancho, you're still in her debt."

"That's rubbish," Feitan interrupted. "It doesn't matter what she's done for Dancho in the past. What matters is that she turned on him and almost got him killed."

"Yes, but it wasn't intentional. It's obvious she wasn't truly out to kill us," Machi argued. . "I mean, she knows that there are a maximum of thirteen people in the Ryodan, and how many people did she hire to fight us? Three: Hisoka, Moonshine and Kikita Timbal. Hell, when we fought them in the Basilio mansion, we were _always_ at an advantage. Her helpers always came out alone to fight us instead of ganging up together on us. Now that I think back on the fights, I'm pretty certain she told them to just distract us and then get the fuck away once she was done. They were never really there to kill us."

"What the fuck does that matter?" Feitan snapped. "All that matters is she _did_ hurt Dancho in the end."

"_But_ she almost died saving him too," Nobunaga pointed out. "It evens the odds."

"She's still a threat, right Shal?"

Shalnark blinked. "Uh… actually, we're not sure she is," he said cautiously. "I mean… she did send those doctors…"

"Doctors?" Kuroro asked, trying not to feel overwhelmed. "What doctors?"

"Kito sent doctors over to take care of you," Nobunaga said impatiently. "You caught an infection and almost died. Oh yeah, you need to eat your antibiotics too, Dancho! Don't forget! They're really important!"

"Yeah," Feitan argued, "but even if she did…"

"Hold on a minute!" Kuroro snapped, raising both hands. "Just hold on a minute." The arguments ceased and all five Ryodan members turned to stare at him. "How," Kuroro demanded sternly, "did Midoya know I have an _infection_ in the first place? And how on earth do you guys know about the truce I had with her? I never told you any of that." Now the Ryodan members were staring at their feet. "Who in this room," Kuroro said slowly, "is still in contact with Midoya?"

To his horror, all five hands went up.

"_Why_?" he demanded. "Why are you still talking to her? Feitan? I thought you're advocating killing her!"

"Well yes," Feitan said uncomfortably. "I think we should kill her, but it's not like I dislike her. Besides, she called to apologise about the whole thing and it wasn't like it was polite to just hang up on her."

"Polite?" Kuroro asked incredulously. "_You_?"

"She just wanted to know how you were doing," Feitan muttered. "And she was really polite. It's her accent, I swear. It _makes_ you listen to her when she says something. It was impossible to hang up once she got started."

"Come on, Dancho," Nobunaga interrupted, saving Feitan from a lot more embarrassment, "she really still cares about you. That's got to count for something."

"She _told_ a powerful mafia boss to kill us," Kuroro pointed out with what he felt was a great deal of reason.

"Yeah, but that's kind of flattering, isn't it?" Machi pointed out.

"_Flattering_?"

"She knew we could take it," Nobunaga agreed enthusiastically. "Bet you anything she knew we could take anything Basilio threw at us. She knows we're tough as fuck. There was no way those mafia thugs could really hurt us."

"But she still caused the deaths of Meteor City residents," Feitan pointed out.

"Yeah… but…"

The voices rose in argument again and Kuroro pinched the bridge of his nose wearily. Thoughts bounced about in his head, making it ache. Suddenly, he had no idea if he had the right to kill Midoya, or whether he even wanted her dead at all.

Could the affairs of life be counted that way, Kuroro wondered. Was it possible to decide that his accidental betrayal of their truce weighed as much as his saving her life when the Association had turned against her? Who decided what weightage each favour had? How was he to decide what the score was even if he did? Each individual weighed the various events differently.

As he sat there, barely listening to his Ryodan and trying not to scratch the ugly scar on his chest, Kuroro realised he needed to talk about this. He needed to discuss this issue with someone else, someone of the same intellectual level as him, someone who would consider all sides of the issue and give him a clear perspective of the problem.

Fortunately, he knew just the right person to speak to.

* * *

In the end, the need to talk about this perplexing problem overruled his body's need to rest. Ignoring his Ryodan's worried glances, Kuroro had insisted firmly that Shalnark get him an air ticket, and he get it _now_. Shalnark had tried to coax him back to bed with the promise of Leila Guranda's newest book. Machi had switched between arguing with him and trying to persuade him to listen to Shalnark. Franklin and Nobunaga had fretted in the background, one trying to reason with him and the other trying to shoo him back through physical means. Feitan chose the expedient method of simply picking him up and tossing him back to bed. However, Kuroro was not Dancho of the Ryodan for nothing, and within half an hour of being tied to the mattress, he had managed to sneak out of the base without anyone noticing.

Within hours, he had reached his destination. It was a startling contrast to the burning heat of Meteor City, with freezing, icy wind followed by freezing icy rain and then more freezing, icy wind. But he still made it to his final destination. The wind whipped at his weakened body as he fought towards the entrance. His hands were cold and numb, but he ignored them. The need to clear up the muddle in his mind was more important than the ache in his chest or the throbbing in his muscles.

With a final burst of strength, Kuroro heaved himself up over the edge and declared, "I have a problem I need to discuss with you."

Midoya, sitting at her grand piano, smiled at him and said, "Sure. Go ahead." Then, unlike his mutinous Spiders, she listened quietly while he told her the entirety of his problem.

Settling down on her orange couch, Kuroro accepted the cup of tea offered to him without interrupting his explanation. In fact, he talked for almost twenty minutes before he ended by saying, "And so I can't decide if I need to kill you or not. Do you see my dilemma here?"

"Indeed, I do," Midoya agreed, and Kuroro smiled, feeling vindicated.

"I _knew_ it was absolutely necessary to talk to you despite what they said," he huffed. "Everyone always assumes I have complete control over my Ryodan. The truth is, once they've made up their minds on something, it costs me an arm and a leg, and then some, to change their minds. There is a reason I prefer to let them decide how to carry out missions themselves. Micromanagement is not encouraged when dealing with people as hard-headed as the Spiders. I would have to fight them every step of the way."

"I have no idea where they get that stubbornness from." Midoya smiled at him.

"Me neither," Kuroro complained, deeply aggrieved. "So, come now. Help me out here. Should I kill you or not?"

"Hmm." Midoya rubbed her chin. "Let me think about this for a moment."

As she thought, her fingers wandered over the piano keys in an absent-minded rendition of some kind of jazzy, bluesy song. Kuroro had always known Midoya was a musician; her roomful of instruments testified as much. This was the first time he had ever heard her play though. And she was good. Her technique was superb and she paid attention to each note and each turn. She could probably play professionally if she wanted to.

"It's a curious question raised by the Ryodan," Midoya said finally. "I must admit it never occurred to me to think of things the way they have."

"So you agree with them?" Kuroro asked curiously as he sipped the hot tea.

"I am not too sure, I must admit, though I suppose that the awareness that I was doing something bad was at the back of my mind," Midoya replied, smiling warmly at him. "I was fully aware that you would be angry. I believe you can count my betrayal of the Ryodan as a strike against me. Though I am not part of the Ryodan, I am friends with many of them, and I am fairly certain I put them in danger by telling Armando what I did."

"But you also believed Basilio would not be able to hurt them, nor did you allow any of your helpers, Kikita, Hisoka or Moonshine to truly hurt them," Kuroro intuited. "That counts as a strike for you."

"Yes." Her fingers wandered over the keyboard again as she thought. "Yes, that is true. I did go through some pains to avoid putting them in genuine danger. It was hard, especially since Armando knew the Ryodan was made up of Nen-users, to convince him not to deploy his Hunter mercenaries and to use normal mafia employees instead. I'm afraid I was only partially successful at that one."

A silence fell over them as Kuroro quietly listened to her play. "Midoya," he finally said, as her fingers trilled over the keys like birds dipping into a pond in mid-flight. "I know the details of some of the things that happened. I can guess at many. Will you tell me the whole story? I want to understand why things turned out this way… _how _things turned out this way."

The music stopped. "Alright," Midoya said quietly. "I can tell you. You deserve to know it. It's… a long story though."

"I have time," Kuroro murmured and sat back, watching her.

Now, Midoya took her fingers off the keyboard entirely. She turned around and leaned back, her eyes meeting yet avoiding his at the same time. "Kuroro," she said slowly, almost reluctantly, "when I was a child… I remember telling you this: I acquired the ability to use _Gyo_ without any training. Do you remember me telling you this?"

"Yes."

"My father thought I was insane," she told him. "Well, both my parents did, but while my mother simply went hysterical with grief at the thought of her poor little Midoya being inflicted so early by the family curse, my father… he hated me. He loathed me. He detested me. He thought I was some kind of demon. He... well, I guess… he 'abused' me. If I ever, _ever_ mention my ability to use _Gyo_, he would shoot me up with sedatives. I sometimes woke up discovering I have lost days, even weeks."

Drugs as a form of control. Kuroro had seen that before. It was never a pretty sight.

"The drugs made things worse," Midoya continued, her voice calm and even, "I lost control of my thoughts. I started hallucinating… or maybe not. I'm still not sure what it was I saw when drugged to my ears but I believe I was truly insane then. So my father put me in a mental asylum, one he never expected me to ever leave." She smiled humourlessly. "But there was a problem. Mummy dear couldn't bear another child. She did conceive once more, but she suffered a miscarriage in the first trimester. The experience was… bad on her. I heard she was quite hysterical after that and was almost admitted into the institution herself. Either way, I was the last of the Kito line. Father needed to find a new heir."

"Basilio," Kuroro guessed.

"Yes," Midoya acknowledged. "It was a nice solution for him. Armando does have some Kito blood in him, but he is distantly related enough that if he had a child with me, the child wouldn't be too inbred. That was my role in his new will. Once I was of age, and by that I mean about twelve or thirteen, Armando was to visit me at the mental asylum at least four times a week for procreation purposes. I was to bear the next heir to the Kito estate, assuming I didn't turn out to be barren, but I was to never leave the asylum ever." Her smile barely changed but Kuroro knew her well enough to know there was more to the story than what she had said.

Briefly, Kuroro thought about questioning her, but changed his mind. If she didn't feel it had anything to do with his situation then he will trust her judgement. He nodded at her to go on.

"But there was a problem," Midoya continued, waving a hand in the air. "When Father made me heir to his estate, he had the Infinity Gem with him. But shortly before he wanted to make Armando heir, he lost it. That meant that no one was willing to accept Armando as heir. Father was furious, but there was nothing he could do. He decided then that the Kito line would end with him, and so he abandoned me in the asylum for years before his death led to my release. Truth be told, even now, I am still listed as officially insane in my medical records." Midoya paused. "I killed him," she said nonchalantly. "I manipulated my uncle into killing him. My poor mother was collateral damage."

Midoya fell silent and the minutes dragged by. "Okay," Kuroro said finally. "I get the background picture, but that's just old history now and not really that relevant. How about more recent events?"

A laugh escaped Midoya and she shook her head wryly. "Dear Kuroro," she began then stopped. "Alright, more recent events." Crossing her legs, she pursed her lips in thought. "Armando, that dear boy, had been pestering the various estates in York Shin to support his takeover of the Kito estate for the longest time," she said. "Unfortunately, he didn't have a single shred of evidence that proved he was capable of becoming the Kito head. I, on the other hand, was listed in my father's will as heir and I am a direct descendent of the Kito family. That meant my position was safe for now. Still, I continued to keep an eye out for clues as to the fate of the Infinity Gem. It didn't matter to me if it remained lost forever, and I thought there was a good chance it would be. I knew it was stolen in Meteor City, and things in Meteor City tend to… stay there. You know how it is; resources are scarce in that country, anything taken in is taken in for good."

"Indeed, I do know that," Kuroro agreed. "Go on."

"And here's where the story gets complicated." Midoya got off the piano stool and came to sit next to him. His traitorous arm ended up around her shoulders as it pulled her closer to him. She was warm and he was freezing cold; he was just making use of her, he consoled himself. "Armando found a supporter," Midoya said, leaning against him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "He found several supporters in fact, in Agocchi itself, including Clemence Priduex, whom you have met. They all agreed that if he could find the Infinity Gem, they will do their best to overthrow me in favour of him. So Armando, like the stupid, brave boy that he is, announced he was going to find the Infinity Gem and prove once and for all that he is the righteous heir to the Kito estate." She shook her head and her hair brushed against his face. "Stupid boy," she repeated. "By announcing it like that, he opened up the floor for me too. If I could find the Gem before him, it would only solidify my position as Kito head for good. Even before he announced it, I was already on the move, looking for the Gem. Someone had leaked information to me prior to his announcement. Clemence claims it was her. Whatever the case, it gave me more time than I would have had to stake my claim."

"So you came to the Ryodan," Kuroro deduced. "The one group of people in the entire world who had half a chance of finding a tiny stone lost in the vastness that is Meteor City. Not only are we a powerful bandit group with a very resourceful Intel expert, we also belong to Meteor City. We know it like few do. We were your best chance."

"Yes," Midoya murmured, stroking the fur on his coat. "That is correct."

"How did you know I was the one who stole the Gem?" Kuroro asked. "Even I didn't know I stole the Gem.'

Midoya laughed. "I _didn't_ know," she said, looking amused. "The report said that the Gem had been stolen by a little boy with dark hair. While three of his friends distracted the agents protecting the Gem, the boy snuck into the car, took the box and ran. I thought it would be cute if it was you, but I was never sure, nowhere near sure, until you confirmed it. Either way, it didn't matter. What I really needed was for Armando to _believe_ the Ryodan stole it, and for you to believe that the only way to protect the Ryodan was to find the Infinity Gem and kill him."

The question had been burning in his mind for weeks now. "Why?" Kuroro asked, trying not to feel too betrayed until they could decide if he _had_ been betrayed. "I still do not understand why you felt the need to trick the Ryodan and me like that. Could you not have just asked for help?"

Midoya gave him a look. "Would you have allowed me to put the Ryodan in danger?" she asked wryly. "Seeking the Infinity Gem meant going against Basilio anyway, the powerful head of a mafia family who runs in the same circles as Kurapika, the dangerous chain-user. Furthermore, it would require the Ryodan to fight Basilio for a purpose that will not benefit the Ryodan in any way. On the contrary, it will only put them in more danger than they already are. Knowing that, would you have allowed the Ryodan to help me?"

Franklin was right. Midoya had burrowed well into his skin. "No," Kuroro confessed. "I wouldn't have."

"There you have it. The only way to get the Ryodan to help me was to put the Ryodan in danger," Midoya replied with a slight inclination of her head. "I am sorry for what I did, for whatever it is worth, but I honestly did not have a choice."

"Was it worth it?" The question slipped out before his mind had fully processed it. But since he was already on that subject… "Was it worth it, putting my life in danger, putting my Ryodan in danger, to solidify your status?" he asked, gazing down at her. "Are you satisfied?"

Midoya looked him back straight in the eye. "No," she replied, "because it is not over."

For a moment, Kuroro almost leapt away from her in alarm, but she put a gentle hand against his wrist to stop him. It was surprising that even with what had happened, her touch was enough to still him.

Kuroro looked at her again searchingly. "Why isn't it over?" he asked.

"Because I didn't do it just to solidify my status," she explained quietly. "I did it for a goal that is never-ending. I did it because I cannot stop."

"What goal?" Kuroro asked insistently.

"Revenge," Midoya whispered, and her eyes glittered like diamonds in the dim light. "It was never truly necessary to find the Infinity Gem to solidify my status. As long as Armando died, I was certain the case would be over. But it's not enough if I wanted to take revenge against my father. That was my ultimate goal, Kuroro, to endlessly wreak vengeance on the man I hate the most. Father wanted to take my life from me, so I took it back. He wanted to break my mind, so I refused to break. He wanted Armando to live and take my place, so I killed Armando. And he wanted to take the Kito estate from me, so I refuse to give it up. The Infinity Gem was never meant to be mine, so I must have it." There was an odd glint in her eyes that disturbed Kuroro, for no matter how many times he had previously claimed she was crazy, this was the first time he had seen the gleam of real insanity in her eyes. "Do you think I am silly, taking revenge against a dead man?" she asked, and her laughter held the slight edge of hysteria. "I don't even know if I believe in the afterlife."

"I do," Kuroro told her. "When I finally die, I fully expect my soul to be torn apart by the souls of the thousands of people I have slaughtered in this lifetime."

That brought a faint smile to Midoya's face. "Has anyone ever told you that you can be very creepy sometimes?"

"It may have been mentioned once or twice."

The disturbingly strained look on Midoya's face lifted at that, and she smiled warmly at him, a smile he could not help returning. "So there you have my motive," she said, leaning against his shoulder.

Yes. Revenge. A motive she knew he would find more acceptable than greed. He had to wonder how much of what she had just said was the truth, and how much was truth twisted to fit his palate. "There I have your motive," Kuroro repeated. "And what do I do with all this? As interesting as your past is, it does not solve my problem at all. In fact, Midoya dear, you haven't given me an answer to my question. Should I or should I not kill you?"

To his surprise, Midoya burst into laughter again; warm, lively laughter that rang out clearly in the chilly night air. She laughed and laughed, and he was relieved when he heard only genuine amusement in it. "Oh Kuroro," she finally sighed when she stopped. "Kuroro dear, you are too precious."

"I know that," Kuroro said, though he had no idea what she meant by that. "So?"

"So… let me see, how shall I put this?" Midoya chuckled, "my answer is you can and cannot put a value on these little events in life."

"Midoya…"

"Hear me out." Midoya sat back from him and thought for a moment. "Sure, we can try to keep score," she said finally, "we can try to decide who owes who more. It is entirely possible. But, the problem, as you have hit upon, is that the value we give to each and every favour done differs. You saved my life half a year ago, Kuroro. That means more to me than it does to you. And now, I have betrayed your trust. That means more to you than it does to me, I assure you. So yes, we can keep a score, but your scoreboard will look quite different from mine."

"Ah." Kuroro rubbed his chin. "The problem of subjectivity."

"It's not a 'problem'," Midoya replied patiently. "We all value things differently; it's only natural."

"So, your conclusion is…"

"That you have to decide for yourself if you want me dead," Midoya replied with a shrug. "Don't think about whether you owe it to the Ryodan to get rid of the threat that is me. Think about whether I hurt you enough for you to want me dead. Look at your own scoreboard, not anyone else's. You wouldn't even have to think about it for long; it is an emotional response after all. You should already have your answer."

"Interesting response," Kuroro commented, and one that she must know appealed to the self-centred bastard in him, he admitted. Idly, he ran his fingers through her hair as he thought. So, what did his scoreboard say? Midoya had let him stay for free when he had been looking for a place to stay. But even if she had turned him down, he would have easily found somewhere else. Then, she helped him find the Jyonen-user. That had been a great help; she needn't have helped him that way. And then he saved her… But wait, he was naming big events that had happened to the both of them. What about the smaller things? She often did his laundry for him when he stayed with her. He cooked for her as often as he could. She was always willing to discuss whatever he was reading, and he would do the same for her. They always had wonderful sex together. He often ran errands for her, little things like going to the mart to acquire milk (the Ryodan way of course; it's a wonder how much money she saved when he did the groceries for her). She liked to buy gifts for him, little items that took her fancy. Sometimes, if she caught the whiff of something good going down in the black market, she would let him know. He made it a point to never attack businesses and properties that belonged to her.

How did one count up all of these things? Kuroro took a good look at his scoreboard and found it both too cluttered and too empty.

"I don't have anything on my scoreboard," he admitted out loud. "I've been rather negligent about it."

Midoya didn't look surprised. "I thought so," she said quietly.

"So I don't have an answer?" Kuroro wondered.

"Perhaps spontaneity would be a better choice in this situation," Midoya suggested. She held his hand, a gesture she did not do often. Outside of the bedroom, they were not necessarily very physical people. "Think about my betrayal, Kuroro. Remember every detail. Now tell me what you want to do."

Kuroro thought about her betrayal, thought about the way she had led him on and played him for the fool. He thought of their fight on the roof of the Basilio mansion, Midoya glowing silver under the moonlight as they danced together, a terrifying, exhilarating dance of life and death. And… "You know what I want to do the most?" Kuroro asked.

"What?"

"I want to do it again."

For a moment, Midoya raised her eyebrows at him, surprise, exasperation and amusement warring across her face. "Which part?" she asked finally. "The part where I throw a bomb at you, the part where I accidentally stab you in the heart, or the part where you almost drain me dry teleporting us to your comrades?"

"The whole thing," Kuroro confessed, smiling. " Midoya, the last time I was played so easily by someone I trusted was years ago, by Hisoka. I haven't had a match like this in a while. The chase after you, the fight with you, even just figuring out what your plan was… it was very delightful. I do not often find enemies who can match me plan for plan, or move for move. Midoya… I have to confess I truly enjoyed it."

Midoya's eyes glowed, a warm, gentle glow. "So did I," she demurred. "It took me months to work out a plan that would drag you in without you suspecting anything, but you caught on right from the beginning that I had my own agenda. Truthfully, taking you to meet Kikita and Aunt Annabella had little to do with killing Armando; I simply wanted you distracted by these odd personalities around us. Aunt Annabella is weird, even by my standards, so I was certain meeting her would shake even you up. And Kikita, she's loud and she's beautiful. She's a distraction just standing there. Not that it worked on you that well, I admit. I did not expect you to be so much more distracted by John then Kikita."

"That's why Kikita attacked me," Kuroro realised. "It was by your orders."

"Yes," Midoya confessed. "I figured if you fought her, you would spend half your time thinking about her powers and how to use them. She wasn't supposed to get that serious with you but you turned out to be too powerful for her to not take seriously. There was no helping it, I guess; I needed you to stay out of the hotel. I was meeting Hisoka that night."

"Was everything that happened in this mission by your orders? Did nothing happen that wasn't part of your plans?" Kuroro wondered out loud.

"No dear," Midoya said, though she laughed at his question. "For example, Hisoka dating Clemence was definitely not part of my plan. He was supposed to kill her, not get into some bizarre S&M relationship with her."

"Hisoka." The question he was about to ask made Kuroro feel like a man about try a strange, exotic dish that looked like it came out of a horse's behind. "Did you… sleep with him? I noticed the bed smelt like roses that night I killed Decimal."

Midoya's eyes flickered to meet his. "Was there blood on the sheets? Was my womb leaking out of my vagina? Did I have claw marks all around my body? Were there strangulation marks around my neck? Has my face been mutilated beyond recognition? Was I…"

"I apologise, Midoya, you don't have to sound so insulted."

"You just asked if I had sex with _Hisoka_. That is only marginally better than asking me if I had sex with a pervert who likes to stand outside an elementary school and flash little girls."

"I apologise again. You must admit, the fact that our bed smelt like him…"

"That was because he was sitting on it when we talked." Midoyao sniffed with dignified hurt. "You were just smelling his bottom." They stared at each other for a moment as her words registered then Midoya gleefully added, "_Nicholas._"

Before he realised what was happening, Kuroro had already tackled Midoya, picking her up around the waist and throwing her back down onto the couch. She laughed delightedly and wriggled out of his grasp. Before she could get far, Kuroro pulled her back under him, accidentally taking an elbow to his face as he did.

"Ouch," Kuroro grunted and pressed his weight against her, forcing her to stay beneath him.

"Oof," Midoya said in response, laughing breathlessly. "You're heavy."

Kuroro smiled and gripped her wrists so he could hold her down as he nuzzled her throat. She laughed and shoved him. It wasn't a hard shove; she had hit him harder when in a playful mood before. But in this case, her gentle shove caused something in his chest to clench painfully, and Kuroro ended up sitting back, trying to breathe through the pain. After a while, he realised Nen was flowing into him, as gentle and as soft as a kitten's touch. Midoya's Nen, mixed with miniscule amounts of Moonshine's, Kikita's and Hisoka's. They must have contributed their Nen to keep her alive after she had almost died giving him hers.

The painful haze cleared and he looked at Midoya, her face smoothed with concentration as she gently pushed Nen into his body. "I still don't know if I want to kill you," he said seriously. "My head is filled with too many conflicting thoughts."

She smiled though her eyes remained close. "I am not surprised," she murmured. "It is a confusing matter, isn't it?"

"Mmm," Kuroro hummed in agreement. For a moment, they remained silent as she healed him gently, her fingers ghosting over the back of his hands. Very quietly, Kuroro asked, "Midoya, what does your scoreboard say?"

Midoya's eyes opened, glowing faintly with Nen. "My scoreboard," she said pensively. "Will you trust what I say?"

"Yes," Kuroro replied honestly.

Midoya nodded. "I think I couldn't have done anything else but what I did," she said evenly. "But I also believe that I have done something truly unforgivable to you. Your Ryodan is your world, and knowing that, I still put them in danger. I did not betray the Ryodan, not in the way you described it. I betrayed you."

Kuroro closed his eyes. "I do not know if that even bothers me," he said quietly. "I don't actually feel betrayed anymore."

"Maybe you should," Midoya said softly. Her hands lifted off his and he missed the warmth of her Nen immediately. Reaching into his pants, she pulled out his phone and started to dissemble it. As he watched with some degree of confusion, she pulled clear tape off his phone. "It's a device that stopped the Ryodan from contacting you," she told him. "It was meant to isolate you and make you vulnerable." Kuroro raised his eyebrows. "Kuroro…" Midoya began then stopped. "Kuroro…" she tried again. "I never meant to hurt you, but I did deliberately put you in the situation where you could get hurt. And… you did. That has to count for something. That is the one thing I do feel truly guilty about and I really am sorry about it."

"You are confused too," he realised. "You don't know where we stand."

"No, I do not," Midoya said softly.

"We are both confused."

"Yes."

It was possible, Kuroro thought, to forgive her. He wasn't angry with her, not anymore, and he wasn't hurt, not anymore. In a way, she was still the same Midoya he had grown so fond of. He had always known she was a very complex and complicated person, and knowing all these extra sides to her, realising that she might not be that far from insanity as he had initially believed, was not necessarily that hard to accept. But something had changed, hadn't it? Something must have after all this. How had they gotten back together after the one time he almost killed her? It was such a long time ago… he had left, hadn't he? He had left after one last visit and the reason he had left was because… he couldn't trust her anymore, couldn't trust her to be the same Midoya he knew. But they regained their trust in each other, didn't they? Could they do the same after this? He wasn't sure.

With a quiet sigh, Kuroro pulled Midoya over and kissed her on the lips.

"We should think about this," he said, lips still pressed against her lips.

"We should," Midoya agreed, gently kissing him back

"I'll contact you in a month's time."

"Alright."

Reluctantly, Kuroro pulled away from the kiss and met her eyes. They were dark and empty and so clear he could see his reflection in her eyes. Without another word, Kuroro got off the couch and left.

-break-

Two weeks later, a box arrived at the Ryodan base addressed to Kuroro.

Shortly after that, Midoya disappeared.

* * *

A/N: The end! Oh my, what a long story this turned out to be, but what a great deal of fun too. I hope this chapter explains some of the questions my dear readers have about why some things happened in certain ways. Certainly hope that the explanations are satisfactory and that the chapter was a good read. Thank you so much to those who have reviewed my stories. I know I say this all the time, but knowing someone out there appreciates my stories always encourages me to carry on. And since I obviously can't be so cruel as to stop the Series at this point, I hereby present to you the next instalment of the Series series: A Series of Romantic Burning Buildings!

Before I reveal the uber exciting (to me at least) preview to the next instalment, I would just like to say a few words about it. I'm sure most of you have figured out by now that the portions in italics in this story are moments from Midoya's past in a mental asylum. That would explain the 'Angst' rating of this story. As weird as it would be for me to say this (considering the fact that I invented this character myself), I suspect that Midoya's life as June Kito would contain much more pain and grief than genuine happiness. That's something I would like to explore more simply because it will be like writing an entirely new character. At the same time, if I do say so myself, all this angst is making me feel down. So, the next story is kind of a return to the genre of Humour/Romance/Angst. We'll get to see more of June Kito, always a dislikeable and tragic character, and Kuroro of course. There wouldn't be as much action but you can look forward to seeing the Ryodan and their Dancho being absolutely silly, because, as the saying goes, "Meteor City residents suck at romances simply because they know shit about how courting and dating works" –_ quote _lunartick.

So, without further ado, I present to you the preview to A Series of Romantic Burning Buildings

Preview: A Series of Romantic Burning Buildings

Shalnark was sitting in his apartment, smashing in the head of the wicked Goblin King of Westshire when the call came in. Frowning, Shalnark glanced at the phone and wondered if it was something he could put off. But no, of course not. Very few people knew his personal phone number, and almost all of those people were Ryodan members. No matter what, Ryodan business was not something that he could just ignore.

Sighing, Shalnark paused the game and picked up the phone. "Hello," he greeted cheerfully, just in case it was Dancho on the phone. A torrent of incoherent babble that sounded nothing like Dancho greeted him back. "Slow down!" Shalnark protested. "Who is this and what is this about?"

"_It's Nobu! Argh, fuck it! That's not important, you stupid dork! Shalnark! You've got to come back! Dancho's gone bonkers! He's gone motherfucking bonkers!"_

Shalnark stared at the phone. "Have you been drinking, Nobu?" he asked warily. "I mean, most of the time, Dancho is a little insane anyway, even by Meteor City standards. What's new?"

"_What's new? What's NEW?"_

"That's what I asked!" Shalnark shouted. "Hurry up! I'm in the middle of a game."

"_Fuck your game! Shalnark, you've seriously got to help us! Dancho's gone off to York Shin!" _

"So?" Shalnark asked confusedly. "If he's going to York Shin, he's probably just looking for Kito right? If anything happens to him, Kito will take care of him. She did send those doctors over the last time so we know she wants Dancho alive – for now at least."

"_Yes! No! I mean… Yes! Argh! No, you don't get it! She's doing the box thing and I think Dancho's pretty pissed off with her! I think he's going to do stuff to her!"_

Shalnark frowned. "What 'stuff' are you talking about?" he asked patiently, because getting upset with Nobunaga only made him more incoherent. "You think Dancho intends to hurt Kito? Not to be mean or anything because I do respect Kito a fair bit, but is that really any of our business? If Dancho decides to kill Kito, I mean… really now… that's not something we should meddle with."

"_It is if he took all the explosives we accumulated for her funeral!"_

Now that got Shalnark's attention. "He took all of it?" he asked hesitantly. "We had an entire warehouse full. What does he intend to do with that?"

"_I'm not sure! That's the problem!" _

That was a problem indeed. "Nobu," he said very slowly, "what is going on?"

"_It's the worst, Shal! She DUMPED him! She fucking dumped Dancho!"_

Oh… no. Shalnark closed his eyes and slowly considered the possible scenarios before him. All of them involved a very obsessive and possessive Dancho with a hole in his heart running around York Shin doing very dangerous and very life-threatening things. Most of these scenarios featured Dancho standing in the middle of the burning city, cheerfully disembowelling anyone who came within ten feet of him. None of these scenarios ended well. "Nobu," he said calmly. "Start from the beginning and tell me what the hell is going on."

Finally, Nobunaga took a deep breath and started telling Shalnark what had happened. He talked about the box and the now missing Kito. By the time Nobu got to the part where Kito was no longer living at her old penthouse, Shalnark had gotten a very clear and very scary idea of what was happening at the moment.

"Okay, I got it," he told Nobunaga. "Listen, just keep it between the four of us first. I'm going to head to York Shin. I'll meet you guys there by tomorrow latest. I know where all our bases in York Shin are. We can probably locate Dancho quite easily if he goes to any of them and I'm pretty certain he will. It's too late for him now to organise something on his own, and without Kito to back him, he has very few resources in York Shin. So, just keep it together, okay? And wait for me."

"_Okay,"_ Nobunaga replied, sounding a lot more relieved. _"Hurry, man! We're going to catch the flight now."_

"I'll try," Shalnark promised. Hanging up, he stared sightlessly at the paused game. This was… not good. Was Dancho planning some kind of mass destruction? That was certainly what the acquisition of the explosives suggested. If he was… and if he was planning to wreck destruction on _Midoya June Kito_, he was essentially kicking over a very, _very_ big bee hive. The consequences would be unimportant if the Ryodan was involved and if Dancho was in perfect health. However, with the Ryodan members scattered all over the globe and Dancho still recovering… the consequences of messing with her would be… disastrous.

Well, no point worrying about it. Quickly, Shalnark closed the game and started to load a webpage. The only thing he could do now was get to York Shin and hope Dancho actually had a plan in mind.


End file.
